You'll Be Strong Tomorrow
by comicbooklovergreen
Summary: AU sequel to '9 Crimes.' TSCC/Fringe crossover. Preventing J-Day and the collision of two universes should've meant they were safe. But when the reprecussions of the time-jump make themselves known, Olivia must find a way to save Sarah rather than saving the world. Sarah/Olivia femslash, mentions of Camerah and Polivia.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **So. This one goes out to Wheresmyluce. Because she accidently put the idea in my head, wouldn't let it die when I tried to kill it, and is therefore more or less responsible for its existence. Happy birthday, Luce-deficient one. This one's on you, for better or worse, so I hope you like it.

Now. This is what happens when I don't have the time or mental energy to start on the _real _sequel to '9 Crimes' yet. I'd call this one a sort of epilogue to that story. But as you'll see, I'm skipping ahead from where that one left off. And through the magic of multiple timelines, multiple universes (and mostly just creative license), I'm giving myself an out here. If I reference past events in this one, there's no guarantee that they will play out that way in the _real _sequel, where I go back and fill in the blanks. Many timelines, multiple universes, this is just one possible version of how things could play out.

A few last bits of business. I shamelessly stole/reworked things from the recent Fringe promos. Also. This one has a lot more references to Fringe elements/events than 'Crimes' did. And in my world, we didn't have the disappearance/timeline reset at the close of season 3. Length-wise, this will have at least another chapter, possibly two or three, depending on if I feel like writing and if you guys feel like reading Finally, if you _didn't _read my first Sarah/Olivia fic (gasp), you'll probably do okay with this one, though there are a few references back to it.

Sorry for the long AN, but I felt the explanations were needed this time. Thanks for reading, reviews are much appreciated. And a very happy birthday to Wheresmyluce. Since this is her fault, please forward any hate mail to her. Lol.

* * *

"You know what I think?" Olivia asked. Her voice was calm and easy, like everything today. The sky was clear, the weather warm, but they still had this section of the playground to themselves, and the whole world felt peaceful.

Next to her on the park bench, Sarah took her eyes away from Ella and Savannah, giving her attention to Olivia. The redhead and Olivia's niece were on the swings together, settling an argument over who could go the highest. Their shrieks of laughter filled the air, and Sarah continued to listen as green eyes met green. "What's that?"

"I think that I could stay here the rest of my life and be happy."

Sarah considered that, lips curving in a smile. "You maybe, I don't know about your sister though. Didn't she want Ella back by four?"

Olivia returned the smile, lacing her fingers together with Sarah's. The gesture, small as it was, probably would've made her uneasy in a different situation. There were an abundance of idiotic people in the world, and as a rule, neither she nor Sarah were big on public displays of affection. But no one was paying the slightest bit of attention, and Olivia was too relaxed to care either way. Sarah's hand in hers only increased the feelings of contentment. This sort of happiness still felt new to Olivia, and she meant to savor every bit of it.

The warmth lasted for another few seconds before it was replaced by ice cold dread. Because she and Sarah looked back at the girls at the same time, saw the threat at the same time. They weren't alone anymore. From nowhere and everywhere came the men with the unnaturally pale skin, a sharp contrast to their dark suits. The hats were in place, as usual. They always looked the same. What was different, what made it all wrong, there were so many of them. Ten, fifteen, every time Olivia blinked there were more.

It wasn't only their numbers, or the fact that she hadn't seen one of them in years. Nor was it the fact that her previous encounters with them rarely ended well. It was the looks they wore. The faces were blank as always, yet they _weren't. _Olivia didn't know what they wanted after all this time, but their faces showed some form of intent. And, she knew this with certainty, whatever their purpose here, it didn't mean good things for her. Or anyone.

It was a big park, lots of families scattered around. Apparently they too recognized the danger, because people who'd been wrapped up in their own lives a few seconds earlier were now joined in a single purpose. Escape. Parents were running for their kids, scooping them up and bolting. Kids that had been screaming with laughter or excitement were now screaming for real. And the Observers were headed straight for Sarah and Olivia. They'd reach the girls first though.

Savannah and Ella had stopped their contest, but were frozen in place. They stood by the swings, apparently in shock as they watched the Observers move ever closer. Olivia ran for them, called to them. Sarah was at her side, doing the same. But there was an invisible force pushing against them, slowing their progress to almost nothing. Olivia wasn't sure the girls could hear them. Her own hearing was fine though, and she heard the bomb before seeing its terrible effects.

There was a noise, louder than the cries of panic. The sky was too bright. Her eyes burned and Olivia screamed Then the wave of cold that'd hit her on seeing the Observers was replaced by a wave of scorching heat. The explosions followed, the sky caught fire, and in a millisecond, so did everything else.

The blast wave hit the Observers first, turning their clothes and their too-pale skin into ash. And in the place of fabric and flesh, there was metal. Eyes that had always looked human, regardless of their lack of emotions, those eyes glowed red now. After the façade was ripped away from the Observers, the bomb did its work on the rest of them. People writhed and screamed as the wave hit, burning them to nothing. Then Olivia screamed, because the fire found the girls. She watched her niece and the redhead she'd come to love get obliterated. She screamed and screamed, knew Sarah was screaming too, but she couldn't hear her own voice, or Sarah's. Ella and Savannah, she heard them perfectly.

It all happened so fast, yet it seemed to take forever. She had time to rebel, at least in her head. They stopped it. They _stopped _it. It couldn't be happening. But it was. The girls were dead. In another moment, Olivia would join them. The world would join them. She had time to find Sarah's eyes, find her own horror and anguish mirrored there. She'd let go of the brunette's hand when the Observers came. She found it now, clutched it tight, resolved that she would die looking into the warmth of Sarah's eyes, not at the hellfire that would be her undoing. Then the fire came for her, and she knew nothing else.

* * *

She didn't scream when she woke up. She wanted to, came close, but ended up biting the inside of her cheek instead. The silence was a reflex, a learned response. She'd had to be silent as a child, when her stepfather hit her and promised to do worse to her mother and sister if she spoke of it. Her first roommate in college almost asked for a transfer because Olivia and her nightmares were interrupting the other girl's beauty sleep. Since then, Olivia learned to be quiet, even after the nightmares.

The images from this one remained seared onto her eyelids, the same way her flesh had been seared off in the dream. Not for the first time, Olivia cursed her unnaturally perfect memory. She hadn't screamed, but her breath came hard and fast and she had to struggle for long moments to get it under control. She did that, then almost hyperventilated all over again because Sarah's side of the bed was empty. Another few seconds and she was okay again, though they weren't seconds she wished to repeat any time soon. A quick touch told her that the space to her left was still warm and Olivia shifted until she was in Sarah's domain. Pressing her cheek against the brunette's pillow, Olivia breathed in the familiar scent and forced herself to relax. She knew Sarah was here. The sheets were a clue, but not the main one. That was just an instinct, a sense. It had nothing to do with sights or sounds and everything to do with years of knowing the woman and sharing a home with her.

Fighting to replace the images of the nightmare with much-preferred thoughts of her lover, Olivia left their bed, trying not to shiver as the cool air mingled with the cold sweat brought on by the dream.

The light streaming into the brownstone's windows told Olivia that dawn was fast approaching, though she could've made her way through the place even in pitch dark. Nightmares were more Sarah's curse than hers, and having to search out the brunette during the wee hours wasn't unusual. She'd complain sometimes, share memories of the machine she claimed to loathe, how Cameron had thudded through the house all night. Olivia wondered if she recognized the irony, if Sarah even realized how much time she spent pacing their home like a caged animal. The place was fairly big, several steps up from her old apartment, and much nicer than they should've been able to afford.

She and Sarah had shared a lot of jokes over the unexpected benefits of saving the world. There couldn't be any public recognition, no medals or commendations. There _was _an extremely generous pay raise for Olivia, facilitated by Broyles, though he'd never admit it. Nor would he admit knowledge of Olivia's ties to a woman still considered a terrorist.

Rewards for saving the world, not that Sarah and Olivia had been the only ones. Walter, Astrid, Peter. Even the doubles from the other side. When Peter made that speech about the need to unite the two worlds, Olivia had never expected the others to listen, never expected the peace to last. Then again, she'd had trouble believing that J-Day was preventable, especially after learning about all that the Connors had lost while trying to accomplish that. But Fringe Division had taught her that nothing was impossible, even if it seemed impossibly difficult.

April of 2011 came and went and there were no bombs, no nuclear winters, no billion-plus death toll. To top it off, after years of hardship, they were actually able to heal much of the damage caused by Walter's little trip in 1985. The two worlds remained separate, but the bridge formed four years ago held them together. And, grudgingly or not, the peace had held as well.

She found Sarah by a window in the living room, staring intently at the world outside. Olivia hung back a moment, silently studying the other woman. If anything had seemed more impossible than preventing the nuclear holocaust or the collapse of two universes, it was the idea of the two of them working out. But pain was a great bonding agent, and they'd both had more than enough of that. They'd lost far too much between them, and risking the loss of someone else hadn't been appealing to either of them. The only thing Olivia could think was that their separate emotional blocks had managed to cancel each other out.

And then there was the sex, the other thing that served to bring them together in the first place. The sex was great, and that was definitely a point in their favor.

"Enjoying the view?"

There was a smirk in Sarah's voice and Olivia returned it as she crossed to her lover. Wasn't her fault. The shorts Sarah chose to sleep in weren't especially loose, and her always-wild hair was especially appealing when it had that sleep-tussled look. Sarah had also mentioned the cyborg's propensity for walking around in her underwear. If Sarah was going to adapt the machine's practices, Olivia sort of wished she'd give that one a try. But Sarah could actually feel cold, and Olivia didn't want to deal with the full sting of her wrath, so she kept her mouth shut. Barely. "Very much. Enjoying yours?"

Sarah made a noise that could've signaled agreement as Olivia's arms found her neck and shoulders, encircling them in a loose hold.

"Bedroom has windows. They have a view too, remember?" Olivia asked resting her chin atop Sarah's shoulder. "I remember distinctly, because the realtor seemed to think that view was worth quite a bit of money."

Sarah's hands went up, covering the blonde's with her own. "And while she was selling the windows, realtor forgot to mention the heating in here." Turning in place, Sarah moved until she was facing the other woman. "You're freezing," she added, running her hands down the length of Olivia's arms before encasing her hands again.

"And you're not?" Olivia questioned, raising an eyebrow at the goose bumps that were clearly visible, even in this light.

"I'm used to it," Sarah replied, a frown marring her features as she got a proper look at Olivia. "You all right?"

Olivia shrugged, avoiding a direct response. "Nightmare."

Frown deepening, Sarah cupped Olivia's cheek, offering a soft but thorough kiss. "Thought that was my department," said Sarah, moving her lips until they rested against Olivia's temple.

Sarah's palm was still on her cheek and Olivia leaned into it, only then noticing the bruises on Sarah's knuckles. Pulling back slightly, Olivia took the brunette's hand in hers, examining it. Sarah's other hand rested on Olivia's hip, and a cursory look confirmed similar damage. Shaking her head, the blonde took the hand that rested on her cheek, brought it to her lips. After giving the other one equal treatment, "Is it that hard to use the tape?"

Sarah shrugged again, lips twisting in a wry smile. "I've hit things much harder than that punching bag."

"True. You've also broken your hand."

"True."

"You ever going to quit looking for a fight?"

The tiny smile disappeared. "Not looking," she refuted.

Olivia repressed a sigh. Waiting then. Expecting. She didn't blame Sarah, particularly after what her own subconscious had just come up with. Still, it got difficult sometimes.

"I've gotten better," Sarah stated, apparently reading Olivia's expression. "I'm trying," she added.

There was something like a plea there, a rarity from the brunette, and it broke Olivia's heart. "I know," she asserted, eyes cutting briefly to the chair near the window. No gun this time. And she'd stopped carrying it when Savannah was with them, when Ella visited. That brought the unwelcome images back to the surface, and Olivia had to find Sarah's gaze in order to steady herself. The girls were twelve now, long past the days of swings and playgrounds. Lately their idea of fun was to drag the women shopping and pester Olivia about expanding her wardrobe beyond the usual work suits.

"What was the dream about?" Sarah asked, concern lacing her voice.

"I don't know. Don't remember," Olivia said, the lie spilling out before she could stop it.

Sarah made a small noise of disbelief. "You remember everything."

"Come to bed with me and maybe I'll remember."

Olivia's voice was warm, teasing, but Sarah still looked away, glancing out the window again. "In a few minutes."

This time Olivia didn't try to stop herself from sighing.

"Sun will be up in a few minutes," Sarah persisted. "I'll be fine then. Just a few minutes."

The words came out half desperate and half defensive, and something else broke inside of Olivia as the other woman turned to face the window instead of her. The brunette had been saying 'just a few minutes' for a few years now.

"I'm trying," Sarah repeated, still not looking at the blonde.

"I know," said Olivia. Facing the window herself, she cautiously brought her hand to Sarah's back, rubbing gentle circles against tight muscles. When some of the tension started to ease, she continued her ministrations elsewhere, arm moving up until it was draped across Sarah's shoulders. Shifting closer until she was pressed against Sarah's side, Olivia was heartened when the other woman let out a breath before restring her head against the blonde's shoulder.

"You're still cold," Sarah stated, guilt clear in her voice.

"So are you." A pause. Then Olivia brought her mouth to Sarah's ear, gently brushing her lips against the lobe. "I know you're trying," she said softly, punctuating the words with a gentle squeeze to Sarah's shoulders. "Try now. Try trusting me when I tell you the sun will come up again, even if you're not watching for it."

Nothing for a moment. Then Sarah's lips found Olivia's neck, her chin. She planted small kisses before finding the blonde's lips, lingering there for much longer. And then she smiled a little and held her hand out, and Olivia followed her back to the bedroom.

* * *

"I shouldn't be doing this," Sarah stated, setting a plate of food and a cup of coffee in front of Olivia. "First morning to ourselves in weeks and it still feels like I'm working."

The quirk of Sarah's lips bellied her words, and Olivia smiled herself, briefly touching her hand to Sarah's. The blonde had made breakfast, as per usual, Sarah had offered to serve, and Olivia wasn't going to let false griping on the brunette's part spoil her good mood. "I've told you before, I think that diner is tougher on you than the Bureau is on me."

Sarah pulled a slightly sour expression before heading back toward the stove. Time hadn't totally erased her unease with the other woman's occupation, never mind the protection offered by Broyles. "Bureau runs you ragged. Just that it's slightly _less_ ragged than they used to, so you think you're on vacation."

Olivia chuckled at that before indulging in her first sip of coffee for the day. The bridge had helped stabilize the world Over There, but Olivia wasn't certain that it hadn't fixed things here as well. Whether it was due to newfound synchronicity between the two universes, or simply because the ripples from Walter's deeds could only go on for so long, fringe events had almost become non-issues. Since Peter stepped into the machine, the amount of unexplainable phenomena on this side had slowly tapered off. Then came last year, when Fringe Division officially ceased to exist. That brought an unexpected sense of loss, but nothing that wasn't bearable. She stayed on at the Bureau, returned to the profiling she'd always been so skilled at. Astrid was there too, so Olivia didn't have to worry about losing touch with the other agent. Walter's initial devastation at losing the Harvard lab was soothed by the fact that the whole of Massive Dynamic was under his control. Not that Walter cared about anything outside of the science division, which he took full advantage of. Fortunately he had Nina Sharp to keep him from running the company into the ground, and Peter to keep him from blowing the building up or otherwise killing anyone during his experiments.

"And the restaurant isn't ridiculously tough on you?" Olivia asked, setting her cup down and bringing a forkful of eggs to her mouth. Career differences aside, the blonde knew that her long hours at headquarters weren't the only reason they hadn't seen enough of each other lately.

"Diner is tough on me because I'm the only one there who doesn't drop a plate or get an order crossed every five minutes," Sarah retorted, making a plate for herself and setting it aside temporarily to pour her own cup of coffee.

"So you acknowledge they overwork you."

"I acknowledge that I spend more time there than I'd like."

"Should I even bother pointing out that you don't need to be there at all?" Olivia asked. Her salary was more than enough to keep them going, not that money was the main consideration. If Sarah didn't keep herself busy, the nightmares would cross into the daylight, and there'd be holes in the hardwood from all of her pacing.

Throwing a smirk over her shoulder, Sarah turned back towards Olivia, beverage in hand. "You shouldn't, yet you still do," she said, leaning casually against the counter as she sampled the hot liquid." I have two skill-sets. Thankfully, one of them seems to be useless now. So I fall back on the first one and be happy that I haven't spilled coffee or dropped a plate in eight years."

"Couldn't be prouder of you," Olivia quipped. "I also can't understand how you can possibly be happy with that waitressing job."

"The risk of getting shot or stabbed is minimal. That's all the benefits package I need."

Olivia cringed at the thought of what Sarah had gone through, bringing a piece of bacon to her mouth to try and cover it up. "There are other jobs you know. You could start fresh, with something you actually like."

"I like not getting shot." More seriously, "Every article I read, all the best degrees are in computers. Didn't particularly like school when I was nineteen, and I've spent longer than I care to think about trying to kill a computer system before it killed everyone else. So why then would I use my fresh start to take classes with a bunch of nineteen-year-olds, learning about the things I was trying to get rid of?"

"Fine, I surrender," Olivia replied, watching Sarah grab her plate from the counter. "Now sit down and eat with me."

Sarah raised an eyebrow as she began to walk across the spacious kitchen. "You're bossy in the morning, have I told you that?"

"Not in the last twelve hours," Olivia teased, lowering her eyes to her plate as Sarah moved toward her.

Her breakfast held her attention for all of two seconds, and then her ears were assaulted by the sound of smashing glass. Olivia's head snapped up to find that Sarah could no longer claim bragging rights on her perfect coordination skills. Cup and plate lay in pieces on the tile. Coffee was mixing with syrup, and Sarah was staring at the waffles on the floor with a mixture of shock and panic. Then her gaze shifted, eyes finding Olivia's just as her nose started to gush and the coughing overtook her.

Olivia was up and moving before the fear had time to fully set in. Sarah fell forward and it was all Olivia could do to ease her down. The brunette was clutching at her, but her grip was frighteningly weak, and Sarah was close to dead weight in Olivia's arms. Both women were barefoot, still in sleepwear, and Olivia sliced her foot open while trying to keep Sarah from doing the same thing. The pain and the blood didn't register, but the blood coming from Sarah's nose certainly did. It stained the brunette's shirt, then it was on Olivia's as well.

Olivia heard herself talking, heard the terror in her own voice that was so uncharacteristic for her. She asked what was wrong, knowing there'd be no immediate answer. Sarah was struggling just to breathe past the coughing, and Olivia was fighting to sit her up enough to keep her from choking on her own blood. She needed a napkin, needed her phone, both of which were a few feet away on the kitchen table. A few feet that could just as easily have been a few light-years in this situation. Green orbs that should've been bright and sharp were dull, barely open, and Olivia had to rail against the sting of her own tears.

Sarah liked to joke that Olivia could remember everything. Like a terminator, she'd said once, only half-teasing. Olivia got the impression that the other woman was jealous. She remembered the dream that'd woken her earlier, remembered it with a clarity few people could achieve for more than a few minutes. Later, she would remember the horror that seized her upon Sarah's collapse, the helplessness and confusion. And she'd remember the dream as the harbinger to all that. The Observers and the bombs shattered Olivia's world right before the plate and glass shattered, and her life was plunged into a hell that was far less literal and far more terrifying.

* * *

It was a long day full of doctors and questions and tests. And by the end of it, Olivia felt like she'd lost a fight with one of the shapeshifters. She wanted to collapse, physically and emotionally. Curl up in a corner somewhere and hide from the unfamiliar deluge. Walter said it was possible that the Cortexiphan trials had dulled her emotions somehow, explaining why things that would leave other people in straitjackets didn't affect her, at least not as much as they should've. If her emotions _were _stilted, it didn't feel that way now. There were still stores of Cortexiphan left at Massive Dynamic. Olivia had half a mind to go there now and demand that Nina turn some of it over. Maybe the drug would help her deal with this.

Drugs. Sarah would be taking so many of them now. Olivia suspected that the sheer number would boggle even Walter's mind, and he still spent an inordinate amount of time and money creating new forms of LSD.

Instead of falling apart like she wanted to, Olivia, cleaned up the kitchen, though not before getting in an argument with Sarah over who would perform that task. There should be comforting words, she knew that. She didn't have them. She kept fixating on the moment they learned about the cancer. She'd felt all the blood leaving her face, felt the drop of her stomach as it tore itself to pieces on the way down. And then she'd looked over to Sarah and found that her lover wasn't surprised. It wasn't the thing to focus on, but Olivia couldn't stop herself, just as she couldn't stop the anger that was trying to overtake the fear.

Sarah showered while she cleaned, after they argued about whether or not Olivia needed to stand guard at the door. Then Olivia showered, examining her own naked body while thinking of Sarah's.

Leukemia. Leukemia meant bruises. She thought about the state of Sarah's hands, wondered how many black and blue marks had come and gone without her noticing. The nosebleeds apparently were not a new occurrence. Olivia had been working too much, hadn't realized. Sarah hadn't told her. Seemed that was true about several things. Olivia stayed in the shower until the water was ice, using the noise of it to cover her tears.

When she entered the living room, Sarah was by the window again. The sun was setting instead of rising this time, but it still looked beautiful. That made Olivia feel worse. Outside everything looked fine. The bombs from the dream, they should've been falling, the Observers flooding the streets. They always showed up at important events. Olivia had been groomed to save the world, she was supposed to be important. Presumably then, the destruction of her entire existence should warrant some attention.

Sarah looked at her as she entered, without turning away from the window. "You're cold again."

She was. Hadn't bothered to properly dry off after the shower, and her hair was cold and dripping. That fleeting glance from Sarah brought a flash of hot anger. Maybe because the brunette had no right to look at her at all, not after her lack of surprise at the hospital. Maybe it was because Olivia wanted the look to be longer, wanted Sarah to have the guts to turn around and face her. Olivia wasn't sure which, supposed it didn't matter. "I'm fine."

There should be more. She should go up to Sarah as she had this morning and wrap her arms around her and tell Sarah to trust her, promise it would be okay. Except in six months it wouldn't be, not if the doctors were right. She'd speak to Nina later, get the names of better doctors, get second and third and fourth opinions. Right now she couldn't make herself move, and Sarah was rigid anyway. "You should be resting," she said, wishing she could make her voice warmer.

Sarah chuckled humorlessly, eyes still locked on the street outside. "I was in bed all day. Details just weren't how I planned them." In a quieter tone, "How's your foot?"

Olivia shook her head behind Sarah's back. As if the glass mattered. Sarah's concern for the trivial injury had her torn between warmth and more anger. The anger quickly won out. Maybe it wasn't the lack of Cortexiphan in her system, Perhaps she'd just been around Sarah too long.

No. It could never be long enough, and now the clock had been sped up enormously. Sarah jumped it when she came through time eight years ago. Eight years, most of them spent with Olivia, and the brunette hadn't found time to open her mouth until she was coughing and bleeding on the kitchen floor. "It's fine. Is there a reason you didn't tell me?"

Tight shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh. "Too many to count."

"Try me."

Another sigh. Silence. Then, "Your mother, for one."

Olivia grimaced, glad Sarah couldn't see it. Marilyn Dunham had died when her daughter was fourteen. From cancer. "How about we keep it to you and me?"

Sarah finally turned to face the blonde, though she made no attempt to move closer. "Not possible. Because it's not only about you and me. It's my mother and yours, and my Charley and yours. It's Reese and his brother and your John and Cam-" Sarah halted there, but only momentarily. "And all the rest."

"What are you talking about?" Olivia asked, pretending she hadn't noticed the slip and trying to ignore the feelings that came with hearing the cyborg's name.

"I'm talking about everyone we've lost. Long list between us, isn't it?"

"It is. And what? You never thought to inform me that you might be joining it someday soon?"

This time it was Sarah who grimaced, but she didn't back down. "I couldn't lose anyone else. All right? For years now, all I've done is lose people, and I know your record hasn't been much better. I was _looking _for reasons not to be with you. Your job should've been enough, but it wasn't so I looked for others. And don't tell me you weren't doing the same because I know you were about as anxious to get close to someone as I was." The words dripped with undisguised sarcasm. "I didn't want to lose you. And I didn't want to risk you losing me, what that would do to you. Especially after your mother. Bad enough that John and Savannah might hate me for leaving, I didn't want to risk that with you too."

"But you did. We both risked a lot and now we're here and you didn't tell me. All this time, you didn't-"

"What if I had? If I'd told you in the beginning that you might have to watch me die just like your mother and everyone else, what would that have meant for us?"

"It would've meant you were being honest," Olivia snapped, making a conscious effort to keep herself from screaming.

"Yeah. Honest about something that may or may not have been an issue, I didn't know. _Cameron _didn't know, you don't think I asked? There was no guarantee one way or the other. And if I'd told you, what would've happened? You would've relived what happened with your mother. You would've panicked every time anything went wrong with me. It would've been this cloud hanging over us. Constantly. I'm sorry. I am. But I couldn't know that it was going to start dumping rain today."

That weakened Olivia's anger, but didn't obliterate it. "You know what John Scott did. The lying. I loved him, but for a long time I thought the worst of him, because of what he kept from me. And Walter could've lost Peter-two worlds could've been destroyed-because of Walter's secret. His wife _killed _herself, because of it. You're not the only one who doesn't like secrets, Sarah."

The brunette had nothing to say to that.

"You know, the lying was fun. When we met in the bar that first night and you lied through your teeth the entire time?"

"That went both ways as I recall."

"It did. And it was fine, because nothing real was supposed to happen. We were playing a game and we both knew it, even if we weren't talking about it. But not everything was a game. What happened in my apartment wasn't a game, at least not completely. And later, after the shapeshifters and the machines were gone and we built a life together, that sure as hell wasn't a _fucking _game!" She was losing the battle at keeping her voice down. The swearing wasn't usually her thing. Another consequence of living with Sarah. Taking air into her lungs, Olivia forced the exhale to be slow, forced her voice to something approaching normal decibel levels. "It's not a game anymore, and you're still playing like it is."

"No. I'm not."

"So you were protecting me. So I wouldn't worry or have to face bad memories. You know you're not giving me much credit with that defense, right?"

A pause, a steeling breath from Sarah. "It wasn't only about protecting you. It wasn't _mostly _about protecting you." Another pause, this one longer than the last. "John was nine when they locked me up. For nine years, I knew the world was going to end, knew there was a good chance that I wouldn't be able to do a damn thing to stop it. And then I went to Pescadero, and I went a little crazy. I think you know how much I like admitting that. But you know what? I was losing it before then. I can see that now. The knowledge was too much and I was already going crazy. Them trying to treat me for it, that just sped it up.

"Nine years I knew the bombs were going to fall, that I'd probably die along with everyone else. Nine years before it really, _really_ got to me. Then I got two good years with John before the fucking machines came back for us, and Cameron told me about the cancer. I didn't think anything could be worse than Judgment Day, but in some ways, the cancer topped it. Because as bad as it was knowing the exact date the world was going to end, at least I had a deadline. At least I could learn and teach John and prepare. With the cancer, I had a year, a year that meant nothing after we jumped ahead. No idea what kind, no idea what might've caused it. And how was I supposed to prepare? I saw doctors, again and again they said I was fine. Can't fight something that hasn't happened yet, not when it comes to that. So I took vitamins and ate vegetables and tried not to feel like a time bomb. Tried not to feel like I had before, like it was just a matter of time before everything blew up. But still, every time I felt sick for reasons that didn't have to do with getting beat up. Every time I lost my appetite, I wondered. Is this it? Is this where it starts? And it never was. It never was. And at some point, I couldn't take it anymore. The waiting, the wondering. So I had checkups while you were out, once a year. Once a year, I let myself worry again. Because the rest of the time, I couldn't handle it. I couldn't. It's been eight years since we jumped, and I was reaching my limit. Eventually the waiting and the wondering and being petrified of what might happen in the future? It would've made me crazy again. I promise you, I would've lost it again. And I probably would've lost you in the process, and I didn't want that."

The admission, the raw honesty of it, broke through the walls of anger Olivia had surrounded herself in. Most of it wasn't even directed at Sarah, not really. The brunette should've said something, if not five years ago then at least when the symptoms began. But Olivia should've noticed. Since college, she'd been trained to make observations, connections. She should've realized, but nothing was as it should be anyway. This shouldn't be happening. It wasn't fair, not after everything they'd both fought already. If she were honest, the majority of Olivia's anger was directed at a God she didn't even believe in. The one that let her mother get abused by a sadistic bastard of a stepfather, the one that later gave her cancer and took her away. The one that now threatened to take Sarah as well.

Shoving the rage and resentment aside for later examination, Olivia crossed to the other woman, enfolding her into a warm embrace. Sarah remained tense for a few moments before giving in to the contact, returning the hug and resting her head against Olivia's shoulder.

The blonde fought off more tears. At least Sarah's hold was tight again, not like this morning when she could barely keep a grip on the other woman's shirt. Olivia tried not to think about how long that strength would last as she smoothed a hand through messy locks. "You wouldn't have lost me," she whispered, close to Sarah's ear. "You _won't_," she added, quiet ferocity entering her voice.

"I'd tell you the same, but I don't want to risk lying to you again."

"Stop it," Olivia commanded, battling a compulsive need to hug the woman tighter. "You're not going anywhere."

A sigh, a kiss to Olivia's cheek. "Not if I can help it, no." After a moment, "I should've told you when it started. I just…all those times that I wasn't sick, that it was stress or exhaustion. I almost convinced myself that it wouldn't happen. I wanted so badly to believe that it wouldn't happen. I was weak."

"No."

"Yes."

Pulling back a bit, Olivia cupped Sarah's cheek, placing a brief, tender kiss on Sarah's lips. "I'll help," Olivia promised. "Nina will help. She knows doctors-"

"Great," Sarah intoned wryly, resting her forehead against Olivia's. "My favorite person, the redhead with the robot arm."

Olivia smiled, just a little. Sarah was actually getting better when it came to Nina Sharp. She'd stopped letting her hand drift toward her waist, and her gun, every time the woman entered a room. "She'll help," Olivia murmured, gently massaging the back of Sarah's neck. "I'll help. We'll beat this." She waited for an affirmation from Sarah. None came. She tried exceedingly hard not to let that break her again. "We'll beat it," she repeated.

Because they had to. Olivia was assaulted with a memory of Nina smashing two snow globes together, symbolizing the destruction of two worlds. It had to be curable, no matter what those first doctors said. Because if it wasn't, if Sarah's life ended, then Olivia's world would shatter just like the globes, just like the glassware that broke as Sarah collapsed.

* * *

Olivia drained her glass for the third time. Her head was starting to pound, but it distracted her from the sounds of fifty college kids on their post-exam benders, so she dealt with it. She shouldn't be here, didn't belong. She should be home, keeping Sarah's spirits up. And she'd go there soon, she promised herself. Just as soon as the booze made it so that her own spirits didn't feel completely crushed. The bartender asked about a refill and she was reaching for her wallet when she heard the voice.

"Hey, I got that."

Peter. Suddenly he was standing there pushing cash across the bar, and the shock of it was enough to lift her from the haze of alcohol and despair. "Peter," she said, less a greeting than an exclamation of surprise.

"Hey stranger. Long time no see."

She didn't know if that was her fault or his, wished she didn't care. "Hey. What are you doing here?" As if she didn't know already.

"Basically, what I was doing at the last three beer joints. Looking for you."

Olivia nodded slowly as a fresh drink was set in front of her. Raising it slightly, she tried to make her lips form something resembling a smile. "Found me. Thanks for the drink."

"You're welcome. Mind if I sit down?"

Olivia thought she might, but gestured at the stool next to her anyway. "I assume Walter spoke to you."

"Astrid and Nina beat him to it, but yes." The barman asked for an order and Peter bought something without taking a drink. When the other man was gone again, Peter's voice had softened considerably. "I'm so sorry, Olivia."

Olivia sipped her drink to buy time, to cover the fact that her eyes were too bright. "No, I'm sorry. Walter must've been upset."

"He was," Peter conceded. "And so were you. Rightfully. He gets that."

Upset was an understatement. It'd been so much easier to be hopeful a few weeks ago, before the cold hard truth set in. She'd spent countless hours dragging Sarah to doctor after doctor, every one of them carrying Nina's highest endorsement. The opinions were unanimous, and awful. Then she'd practically lived at Massive Dynamic for days, scouring every old file, every dropped project. The notes left behind by William Bell were equal parts fascinating and disturbing. Before he died, he'd speculated or made progress on some amazing and terrible endeavors. None of them was a cancer cure, or the start of one, or the glimmer of one of his genius leaps of intuition that might've provided a starting point.

She'd been at the end of her rope when she went to Walter. When he echoed the sentiments of everyone else, that it might be possible to prolong Sarah's life a bit, but saving it didn't seem possible, that was when Olivia lost her tenuous hold on control.

"_I've seen you defy the laws of physics and nature a thousand times. You've interrogated people who're already dead. You…you ripped a hole in the universe to save Peter."_

"_Olivia-"_

"_No, Walter. You saved Peter. And then you and Bell, you created Cortexiphan so that the other kids and I could save the world. You developed this drug that gave us these abilities that no human should have. You destroyed childhoods and lives with this. You turned me into a weapon in this war that you started in the first place, when you took Peter. And now after what you've done to me and who-knows-how many others, you're telling me you can't save her? Just like you couldn't save John Scott? I lost him, and now I'm supposed to lose Sarah too? You can save Peter, and you can turn children into lab rats for some noble cause, but you can't do this one thing for me? IQ of 156 and you can't do this one thing I need from you, in return for sacrificing myself to your noble, high-minded experiments?"_

He'd been crying when she finished. Olivia had just enough time to notice this before her own tears burst through and she had to get away. It'd been years since she'd gone off on him like that, years since she'd felt such boiling hot rage directed at him. She'd known it was unfair even as she said it. Walter had done his best to save John Scott. And the rest…those were old wounds that'd scarred over years ago, while Walter worked to atone for his mistakes. Olivia was simply in so much pain that attributing it to Walter was easier than having no one to blame at all.

"Did he tell you everything?" Olivia asked, fighting the urge to drown her shame in more booze.

"Think I got a pretty decent play-by-play."

Olivia sighed deeply, looking at the bottom of her glass instead of at Peter. "I'll apologize tomorrow."

"He understands, Olivia."

Yes. Walter would understand better than anyone. Olivia gave herself another second, then made her gaze lock with Peter's. "What I said about Walter saving you, I didn't mean that-"

"-that he shouldn't have?" Peter finished, finally making use of the drink in front of him.

"Yeah. That. Don't think that I'm not glad that you're-"

"I know," Peter assured her.

"Good." Despite all the repercussions, Olivia couldn't have Peter believing that she wasn't glad Walter had saved his life.

"I _am _sorry."

Olivia blinked away the brightness, nodded, sipped her drink again. "Thank you."

"I'm also sorry I had to hear it from Walter, Nina and Astrid first."

He didn't sound angry or frustrated. Just confused. And hurt. Olivia would've thought it impossible for her to feel any worse. She kept forgetting how few impossibilities their really were. "You have a lot going on." God that was bad. "I was going to tell you. Haven't fully made the rounds yet."

The excuse was exceptionally terrible, but Peter didn't call her on it. "How are John and Savannah taking it?"

Logical to assume they'd know already. Should've been pretty high up on the list of people to inform, which was pitifully short anyway. "John's still…drifting."

If Sarah had trouble adjusting to life without the perils of a future war, John was even worse. The waitressing wasn't much, but it was more than John had. Sarah at least had experienced it before, remembered life as something other than a fighter, a symbol, a legend. John's whole life had been centered around a purpose that no longer existed. He'd been struggling to find a new one ever since the world kept spinning four years ago, when Cameron said it should've ended.

Cameron. He'd been struggling there too. Whether he'd loved her or only thought that he did, he'd never gotten over her departure. Just like his mother, though he didn't know that. Besides the fact that she was dying, the only other thing Sarah had kept from her son was the truth about her relationship with Cameron. And despite their mutual disdain for secrets, Olivia couldn't say she blamed the brunette. Some truths did more harm than good.

"Well. I definitely understand drifting," Peter commented.

Of course he would. Before she chased him down in Iraq, Peter had spent years running scams, hopping from place to place. That Peter was trying to escape memories of his father and his childhood while John was trying to escape the specter of a John Connor who didn't exist here, that hardly mattered. "Last I heard, he was working on a fishing boat somewhere. Cell reception isn't great." That was utter bullshit. Sarah hadn't forced him to stick around and play house with her and her new lover, but she'd never go a day without knowing where he was, or at least having a reliable means of contact. But the brunette gave that excuse, so Olivia parroted it and sipped her drink again.

"What about Savannah?"

Olivia closed her eyes, fighting off a burning tightness in her throat that had nothing to do with alcohol. "She doesn't know either. Not yet.'

'"How is that possible?"

"She splits time between us and Ellison. Been staying with him since last month."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Sort of an odd custody arrangement."

Olivia shrugged. "He missed her, wouldn't let it go."

"You must miss her too."

She did. She'd continue to, for the next week. She'd also dread Savannah's return, a totally unfamiliar feeling. A cancer diagnosis was hardly the best thing for a twelve-year-old girl who'd already lost so much to come home to. "How's Henry?" Olivia asked after a protracted silence. Peter's gaze sharpened on her with that question, his eyes studying her intently. The blonde did her best not to react, and fortunately her best was better than that of most people.

"He's good," Peter replied. There was caution and a bit of pain in his voice, but there was also no mistaking the slight upturning of his lips. "He's really good."

"I'm glad," Olivia replied. It sounded a little forced, but she still meant it. She just… Henry would always be a sore spot between them. Sarah wasn't wrong when she said they'd both looked for reasons to push each other away in the beginning. And without Henry, Olivia would've had all the reasons she needed. They might've gotten past Peter's mistakes with the _other _one, if those mistakes hadn't resulted in a child, if Peter hadn't found out about him. But Peter wasn't going to abandon his son, not after the years of absence from Walter. And Olivia couldn't be around the boy. She'd managed to make peace with the other version of herself. Cooperation between the two sides made that a necessity. But Henry was too much. She'd made the mistake of looking at a picture once, saw a perfect blend of herself and Peter, a perfect child with her eyes. Who didn't belong to her. The boy was four, she hadn't seen his face in two years, and she planned to keep it that way.

They sat in silence for awhile, listening to the clink of glasses and the too-loud voices of inebriated college kids. At one point, before she was kidnapped, before Henry, it wasn't uncommon for them to grab a drink together on the weekends. That hadn't happened since before Fringe Division closed, and even then, Astrid had been with them. And despite her earlier internal questioning, Olivia couldn't honestly pretend that their lack of contact now was his fault. He was constantly using the Bridge to cross between universes (as if he could talk about odd custody arrangements), but he still tried with her, despite unanswered voicemails or excuses about the hassles of work. It would be odd though, spending time with him now without asking about Henry. And inquiries about Henry might very well lead to inquiries about the other Olivia. Peter had made peace with the redhead as well.

Olivia was fairly certain the relationship was strictly about Henry. Fairly certain that Peter wasn't engaging in an inter-universal love affair with the woman who was, at least in some ways, a better version of Olivia. But she didn't need to risk being in a position of having (or wanting) to ask, so she'd limited her contact with Peter, focused on loving Sarah, and tried not to dwell on the fact that he still had a kind of hold on her. Just as the machine…Cameron, retained her power over Sarah's emotions long after her chip was taken through time and her body incinerated.

"You met her here."

It wasn't a question, but it left Olivia with one of her own. "What?"

"Sarah. This is where you met."

He attempted to hide it, but the sadness bled into his voice. Olivia tried attributing it solely to Sarah's illness, but she knew him too well. It shouldn't make her feel better, knowing that he wasn't the only one who still had power. It did though. For about two seconds. "Yeah," she said. She had to swallow more booze, along with the lump in her throat, before continuing. "How'd you know?"

Peter's lips quirked, gaze shifting meaningfully over the swarms of obnoxious college kids. "Why the hell else would you choose this place"

Olivia chuckled at that, and it wasn't completely forced. He made a good point.

"So. Was it nostalgia, or knowing that this would be the last place I'd look?"

Olivia sighed, considered. "Does it have to be one or the other?"

"No," Peter replied, voice going soft again. "You knew Walter would call. You didn't want me to find you."

Olivia sipped her drink instead of offering a pointless denial.

"You want me to leave you alone?"

He would if she asked. She put the drink down and met his eyes, letting the mask fall for just a second. "No," she said in a voice that was weak and raw and very unlike her own.

Peter nodded, bringing his drink to his lips and surveying the scene. The room was filling up, the kids getting louder and rowdier with each passing second. "Okay. You really want to stay here?"

Olivia followed the path his eyes had taken. There were two boys eyeing her up from across the room, appearing to egg each other on. Sarah had gotten rid of an overeager MIT student for her the last time they were here. "No," she repeated. "I can't…I don't want to go home yet." She couldn't face Sarah, face telling her lover that she'd failed to bring home a cure or a treatment that would make everything better.

"Okay," Peter said quietly, punctuating it with another nod. "Where to, Agent Dunham?"

The title made her smile a little, even as she started to shake her head. She'd lived in Boston for years, but her life had been her work. There wasn't an abundance of meaningful places to reflect. If there had, she wouldn't have been in this bar. Now, or years ago, after her return from the other universe and the revelation of Peter's affair. If she'd had anywhere else to hide, she wouldn't have met Sarah in the first place.

"I miss the lab." The words were out before Olivia knew they were coming. But on replay, she couldn't take them back. Walter, Peter, Astrid, they'd formed a kind of screwed up, dysfunctional family unit, even after things became difficult between her and Peter. And that lab had been the hub of it all. But it wasn't theirs anymore, hadn't been in over a year.

Peter didn't seem aware of the problem. He grinned at her, fully. It wasn't one of the sad little twists of the mouth they'd been exchanging since his arrival. "You really are feeling nostalgic," he said, eyes glowing with a mischievous twinkle.

Olivia regarded him with equal parts curiosity and suspicion. "Guess I am. But I'm not breaking into Harvard with you."

"Of course you're not," he agreed. Then he pulled a something from one of his pockets and, with a quick little flourish of the hand, held it up for her inspection. "It's not breaking in when you use a key."

Olivia watched the light play against the tiny piece of metal, a disbelieving smile forming on her lips. "We were supposed to turn in our keys," she stated, trying and failing miserably at making it sound like a reprimand.

"I did turn them in. Mine and Walter's. You saw me, I know you remember."

"I do. You didn't tell them you had a copy made."

"They didn't ask. Besides. You remember how upset Walter was at first. If he started ranting about wanting to check up on things and see the place again, which wasn't unlikely, you know that, then I wasn't going to drag him to some introductory chemistry course where he could influence a whole new generation of mad scientists."

"So you've been carrying that key in your pocket for a year, just in case."

"Uh-huh. Seems like a good idea now, doesn't it?"

It did. Still. "We really shouldn't," Olivia protested, voice at odds with her words.

"Probably not. Walter probably shouldn't be taking whichever drug it is that keeps him from remembering which office is his and which belongs to Nina."

"Oh God. Do I want to know?"

"Picture Nina Sharp walking in with her morning coffee to find Walter sitting at her desk, scribbling a formula for the perfect peach smoothie."

"Doesn't seem so bad."

"Wouldn't have been, if Walter had been wearing clothes at the time. That was an especially fun day." More seriously, but still with a smile on his face. "Come on. Let's take a walk down Crazy Lane."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **So here be the deal. This is apparently going to continue for at least a few more chapters, despite my best containment efforts. The beginning of this chapter is also a lot more Liv/Peter focused than I'd typically write. Don't worry, Sarah is still very much around. It's late, I don't have the time or the inclination to edit, so I'm sure typos will abound. Hopefully most of those will be addressed in the next day or two. Finally, to those who reviewed last time, I very much appreciate it. It's not an easy one to read through, and it's not an easy one to write, so your comments are even more valued than usual. Thanks for reading, drop some feedback on your way out if the mood strikes you.

* * *

"Is this Poly Sci 101?" Peter quipped as he switched on the lights.

Olivia smiled weakly, answering the same way she had years ago, when the unsuspecting freshmen had intruded on them. "Not remotely."

Peter chuckled a little as they re-entered the lab that had been such a huge part of their lives. "Déjà vu all over again, huh?"

Olivia nodded, letting her eyes roam over the space. Everything was more or less how they'd left it. Actually, it was closer to how they'd first _found _it, when Broyles reacquired the lab after Walter's release from the institution. The equipment seemed intact, only now it was covered in white sheets, and a thin layer of dust coated everything.

"Walter was right," Olivia mused, running her hand over a worktable that had served as meal place one hour, autopsy table the next. "That first day after St. Clare's, he said that so much had happened here, and so much was about to. He was right."

"He was," Peter agreed, joining her at the table. "I almost killed myself right here, when he decided to mix his poison collection with his soda can collection. So many fond memories." The quirk of his lips cancelled out the characteristically wry tone. "So. Does it feel like seven years?"

Olivia met his eyes, thought it over. "Sometimes it feels like it's been _seventy_ years. Right now it feels like it's been about a week." A pause. Then, "It's funny. When we were here every day, in the middle of everything, there were so many times that I just wanted to get away, be done with it. I'd miss lunch with my sister, miss Ella's birthday because of what we were doing." She'd also missed time with Sarah, but Olivia breathed deep and let her eyes close for a moment so she wouldn't have to think about that. "All those times I wanted out, and now that I am…" It wasn't so much the work itself that she missed. It was the sense of family and safety that this place had eventually given her. Even when Walter was serving poison cocktails in soda cans, that had become its own form of stability. Long before the division was closed, Sarah had become her new source of strength, her new touchstone. And now Sarah was sick, leaving her with nothing and no one to cling to.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," Peter mused. "I'm not used to you saying it."

"What?"

"That it got to you that much. I knew it did, but the times of you admitting it were few and far between."

Olivia forced a weak smile. "Well. Just because I didn't whine every day for the first three months about how badly I wanted to leave…"

Peter feigned a wounded expression, without denying the fact that he'd complained about being there quite often during that first year. "Maybe I did whine a little bit. Not everyone's as strong as the mighty Olivia Dunham."

Olivia tilted her head at him, mentally refuting his words. "Mighty? Really?"

Ignoring the questioning of his use of adjective, Peter gestured for Olivia to precede him, gaze traveling the length of the large room. "Come on. We came here for the grand tour, right?"

Slowly, they traversed the room, sometimes splitting off in different directions. Olivia vacillated between a need for company and a need for space, and when the latter urge won out, Peter wandered into another corner of the lab without being asked. They talked a little, skimming over the seven years of memories triggered by this place. And then they met back at their starting point, in front of the small set of stairs that led into the lab.

"So," Peter said as he rejoined her. "We've covered Gene's grazing habits, Walter's propensity for blasting Pink Floyd while cutting into corpses, and most of the stuff in between. We going to get to what's important now?"

"Important?" Olivia parroted, hoping he'd make it easy on her.

"Yeah," Peter confirmed. "The important stuff. How I can help you."

The opening she'd wanted. It shouldn't be this hard, asking him. Their history definitely complicated things, but still, it shouldn't be this difficult. Broyles may have gone deaf and blind to Sarah's criminal history. John and his MIT pals may've been the ones to erase or disguise that history as much as possible, in the cyber domain at least. But Peter was the one who got Sarah the new identity papers, the physical proof of her new life. The documents were thorough, detailed, flawless. Sarah's previous contact Enrique would've been shamed by their perfection. Olivia hadn't asked Peter to make use of his own old network of shady characters, he'd simply presented them to her at the end of a particularly trying week. He'd looked a little sad when he handed them over, but he'd smiled and hid most of the pain and bolted from the lab before Olivia could muddle through a proper thank you.

He'd helped before, it shouldn't bother her to ask for it now. Maybe she was just tired of going to everyone who'd been able to work miracles in the past and finding no salvation. Maybe she was afraid of what would happen when the door closed on her final option, so she feared opening it. Regardless, Olivia was glad that Peter had taken the question out of her hands. "There is one thing. The next time you're Over There…" She had to pause. The other side had medicine and technology that didn't exist here, but she'd worked enough with the other Fringe team, knew enough about that world to realize that a cancer cure was not one of their discoveries. But there was a whole spectrum between no cure and no hope. "Could you talk to Walternate? Find out if anyone on his side is developing any new treatments that could make a difference?"

"Yeah. Of course. Anything else?"

Olivia shook her head, fighting off a migraine that didn't have much to do with the alcohol from the bar. Even if there was a drug, a treatment, she wasn't supposed to have it. Transport of items from one side to the other was strictly monitored. Besides, she hadn't been able to access the Bridge since the division shut down. Peter had what amounted to a dual citizenship, courtesy of Walternate, making it much easier for him to cross over. For Olivia and anyone who wished to use the Bridge, there were clearances to be obtained, cases to be made, signatures from high up. Only half-joking, Olivia questioned Peter on his ability to smuggle items past the screeners at the Bridge.

"Broyles has been a general for two years, Walternate's the Secretary of Defense Over There, and you, me and Sarah all helped to save a couple of worlds not too long ago. I don't think red tape will be much of an issue." He said it lightly, but when Olivia didn't smile, his tone quickly changed. "We'll figure it out, Olivia. It's going to be okay."

Swallowing hard, Olivia turned away long enough to sink down on one of the stairs, studying a speck of dust on her pant leg. "I don't know anymore."

Sighing, Peter walked the few paces between them. "Scoot over," he said quietly. When Olivia did as he said, he took the space next to her, watching while she examined the floor between their feet. "You need to go home, Olivia."

Finally Olivia looked up, knowing that her eyes were telling him too much, but unable to do anything about it. "I know. I just…I don't know how to…" Her voice cracked just a little, enough to derail her attempt at an explanation.

"You've done everything you can. The cavalry's here. You have the best of the best on your side. Walter-"

"Walter made it clear that there's nothing he can do."

"And how many times has he said that? How many times did he tell us he couldn't find a solution, and then come up with one two minutes later? You know how his mind works. You know he's going spend all his time on this. And if _he _doesn't have some flash of inspiration, Walternate just might."

Olivia smiled mirthlessly. They'd made peace over the years, but that didn't erase the memories of her kidnapping, her confinement, the purge of her identity. "Providing a little information is one thing, but he's a busy man, and there's not a lot of love lost between us."

"Again, you helped heal his world." Peter paused, making sure he had direct eye contact. "If that's not enough, he knows what you mean to me."

Olivia let herself feel that for just a second, remembered a time before the _other _Olivia. Then returned to the here and now, the bleakness of it. "I realize that all of that is true. But…" Olivia considered, wondered how much she could tell him, and then mentally threw up her hands. "Sarah knew she was going to get sick. At least that it was a possibility."

"What?" Peter asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

As briefly as possible, doing her best to avoid old hurts, Olivia explained Cameron's revelation from eight years ago, avoiding Peter's eyes again so that the shock and compassion there didn't undo her. "And when I asked why she didn't tell me in the beginning, she implied that if she had, I would've run. Because of my mother, because of what was already stacked against us."

Peter shook his head, touched her arm. "She made a mistake. That's not an excuse, but-

"No, you don't understand." She didn't want to look at him, but she had to, to make him see. "Part of the reason I was so upset…I don't know that she _did _make a mistake. I don't know that she was wrong to think that I would've run. If she'd told me in the very beginning, I don't know what I would've done."

"No. You're stronger than that, You-"

Olivia didn't let him finish. If he did, then she probably wouldn't. "I know you think that. You said it ten minutes ago. And my mom always said that too, that I was the strong one. Because I had to be. Because as much as I loved her, she wasn't. She wasn't strong enough to protect herself or me or Rachel from my stepfather. She'd come to my room with a black eye or a swollen lip, after Rachel had already crawled into my bed because she could hear what he was doing to mom just like I could, and she was scared to death. And my mother would come in while my sister was sleeping next to me, and she'd kiss us both and tell me that I was strong. And that if I just hung in there and stayed strong a little while longer, she'd get us out of there, she'd make it better. She promised me that we'd get away from him if I just kept being strong a little while longer. And I believed her, because she was my mother. Until I realized that she couldn't keep that promise, no matter how much she wanted to. "

"So you did it yourself," Peter stated, sounding anything but judgmental.

"I did. And I know what you think. That standing up to him, that shooting him took some huge show of strength. But it didn't. It happened so fast that I didn't have time to think, or worry about the consequences. The only thing I could see was that he would be gone. And then my mother could be the strong one when bad things happened. But nothing could be as bad as him, so I thought that after he was gone, everything would be close to perfect. And it was for awhile, at least compared to before. And then mom got sick. And I had to be the strong one again and take care of Rachel and say that it was going to be okay, while I watched mom waste away. I saw what the chemo and the radiation did. I watched her get worse and worse. And I couldn't save her from that. And I can't save Sarah either. And it's starting to happen already. It's slow, but that's how it was with mom at first. And when I think of watching that again, of losing Sarah that way…" Olivia stopped, choked on a sob, made herself continue. "When I think of that…I don't know that I wouldn't have run, if Sarah had told me in the very beginning."

A few tears escaped. Olivia sat forward a little, dropping her head down so Peter wouldn't see. His hand found her back, and she let him rub gentle circles even though she was ashamed. She could count on one hand the number of times that she'd lost it with him. All of those had been before Sarah came into her life. Olivia took deep breaths, swallowed until the lump in her throat descended to her stomach, joining the collection of knots there. She raised her head enough to look at him, hating the quiver in her voice. "I don't know why, but I thought that I wouldn't have to be so strong anymore. I tricked myself, just like when I was a kid. I thought that after shapeshifters and machines and saving it all, I somehow thought that that would be enough. For everyone. You, me, Walter, John…Sarah. I let myself believe that we'd all somehow paid our dues. That we could just move on and live our lives and be happy. That Sarah and I… But apparently that's too much to expect. And I have to be the strong one again."

Olivia wanted to finish. Tell him that she couldn't do it this time, that strength had its limits, that hers were tapped out. She couldn't manage it without breaking into tears, but she supposed that that made her point better than if she had been able to choke out the rest.

Her first inclination was to fight the deluge of tears, which only made things worse. The dam had broken, and the flood of emotions was going to happen one way or another. It was the realization that she'd much rather fall apart in front of Peter than Sarah that caused Olivia to finally give in. Whether she was or not, she had to pretend to be strong for Sarah, and she couldn't do that anymore without having somewhere to vent. So she stopped struggling when Peter shifted, pulling her against him. He didn't say anything, just rubbed her back and stroked her hair, silently absorbing the sobs that wracked Olivia's body. At one point she pulled back a little, still clutching at him as she tried to catch her breath. Peter brushed some hair out of her face and kissed her temple. It was a chaste gesture, but it still set Olivia to crying again because Sarah had done the same thing a few weeks ago in the living room after her nightmare.

Eventually she settled down, regained a semblance of composure. From the same pocket where he stored the lab key, Peter produced something for Olivia to wipe her face with, and she took it with a nod of thanks, all she could manage. Peter sat back a little, waited her out. When her eyes were dry enough to see out of and the last of the tremors had mostly died down, he found Olivia's gaze, speaking with a quiet firmness which assured that he would keep it.

"You always question your strength. It's not always out loud, but I've seen you do this before. And you're always wrong. You always underestimate yourself. If she'd told you earlier, you wouldn't have let the possibility of this scare you off. You question that now because you never had to make the choice, and you're scared, and you're questioning _everything_. I understand that. But I also understand you. And even if you want to argue that I'm wrong, that doesn't matter now. What you would or wouldn't have done years ago, that's not the issue. Right now, as scared as you are, do you plan on running away from her?"

The vehement shake of her head was reflex, the reply so simple that she didn't pause to think about it. "No. God no."

Peter nodded, offered a sad smile that quickly disappeared. "You need to go home," he said gently, repeating his earlier sentiments.

Olivia couldn't respond immediately. She still struggled with the idea that she wasn't a horrible person for questioning what she would've done if Sarah told her at the outset. And even after the cry she'd just had, she questioned her ability to go home and face Sarah without breaking down. "I don't know how to do this," she admitted. "I still don't know how to do this."

Peter ducked his head for a moment, ran a hand through his hair before meeting her eyes again. "You know about the gaps in my memory, the stuff from my childhood."

Olivia nodded. She didn't know if it was some consequence of jumping universes when he was a kid, a defense mechanism to block out trauma, or if Walter had done something to make him forget. She didn't discount the last possibility, but she'd never been sure one way or another, just as she wasn't sure where this was leading.

"I never told you this, I can't explain why it happened. But when I used the machine to build the Bridge…I don't know. It did something to my brain, while I was linked to it. Things came back. Not everything, but I remember being sick now. All those times Walter would mention it and I had no idea what he was talking about, I do now. Have for years."

"Peter…" Olivia marveled at the fact that she hadn't known. Had she pushed him away so thoroughly that he hadn't been comfortable sharing something this huge?

"It's okay," he said, apparently reading her expression. "The point is that I remember being sick. I remember _dying_. I remember how scared I was, and I remember my mother being there all the time. Walter," Peter shook his head, rubbed at his temple. "Walter_nate_, I barely remember him being there at all. Ever. And I knew he had a reason, I knew that he wasn't home with me because he spent all his time looking for a cure, trying to _save _me. Didn't change the fact that I was sick and scared. And as much as I wanted to get better, I also wanted my father. And I didn't have him."

Olivia tried to take that in, realized he was right even as she fought against the truth of his words, the path they laid out for her. "What am I supposed to do, go home and wait for her to die?"

Peter shook his head, briefly encasing her hand in his. "You go home and _be _with her."

* * *

"You should be resting." It wasn't what she'd meant to lead with, but that's what came out of Olivia's mouth as she closed their front door behind her.

From her place on the couch, Sarah made a vague gesture with one hand to encompass their surroundings, right eyebrow arching just a tad higher than the left. "And hello to you too," she said lightly, moving the hand to indicate the book in front of her on the coffee table. "Now that you're here, guess I'll have to finish training for that marathon tomorrow."

Smiling sheepishly, the blonde shrugged out of her coat, depositing it in a nearby closet. "How's the novel?"

Sarah took hold of the paperback, casually leafing through the pages. "Great. Life altering. It's helped me rediscover things about myself."

"Such as?" Olivia asked, playing the game and pretending not to notice the dark circles under Sarah's eyes. She'd always had sleeping problems, but Olivia hadn't seen those in a very long time.

Shrugging, Sarah carelessly tossed the book aside. "Mainly that I hate reading. How was your day?"

Their mail was on the table next to the brunette's discarded reading material. Imitating the shrug, Olivia crossed the room and rifled through pre-approved credit offers so she could avoid Sarah's eyes. "Okay. Long."

"I noticed," Sarah replied easily. "C'mere."

Olivia wasn't so wrapped up in her fears that that word didn't have an impact. She was close though, and the shiver of pleasure that raced down her spine wasn't nearly as overwhelming as it should've been. Still, she smiled, crossed to the other side of the table, leaned down until Sarah's mouth was warming hers.

Playing with the long hair at the base of Olivia's neck, Sarah kissed her soundly, mapping her mouth as if she hadn't done it a thousand times before. When the contact finally broke, Sarah rested her forehead against the blonde's so that they still breathed the same air. A leisurely hand cupped Olivia's cheek, gentle fingers exploring soft skin. "So," she murmured. "Day was so okay that you've been crying _and _drinking."

Cursing to herself, Olivia pulled away from the other woman. The smell of booze on her breath had been strong enough to give her away, but so too apparently was the disgustingly minty gum she'd used to cover it up. She thought she'd done a pretty good job of disguising the signs of her tears, but Sarah had cried and hidden quite a few herself. Obviously they were pulling from the same bag of tricks. "I stopped off at a place after work," Olivia explained, crossing into their kitchen to look for food she didn't want. The room had been making her vaguely nauseous ever since Sarah's collapse.

"I know. I hope Peter bought you at least one drink."

Closing the fridge she'd had no interest in to begin with, Olivia moved until she was halfway between kitchen and living room. No accusation there, but she still felt some need to retreat, one that kept her from rejoining Sarah on the couch. "He called you?"

"He did. Looking for you. I took pity on him."

Olivia found it slightly amazing that Sarah would predict that she, Olivia, would hit up a bar she hadn't been to in six years, but didn't have time to focus on how predictable she apparently was. "He didn't tell me you two spoke."

"Good. I told him not to."

"Why?"

Sarah's shoulders dropped a little, tone losing some of its forced casualness. "Because you needed out of here, needed a break. Needed something I couldn't give you."

Something in her gut twisted in on itself, and Olivia crossed back to Sarah in quick, long strides. Pushing aside the book and the junk mail, she perched herself on the edge of the coffee table, stealing one of Sarah's hands and enfolding it in both of hers. "I need _you_," she countered, deliberately emphasizing the last word.

Lips curved in a wry smile, Sarah used her free hand to push strands of golden hair away from green eyes. "I know. And sometimes you need him, too."

"That's-"

"Olivia," the brunette interjected, brushing a finger over the blonde's lips to silence her. "It's okay. Did he help?"

Olivia sighed, pretended not to hear the repressed pain in her lover's voice. She and Peter had always been on somewhat shaky ground, never mind saving the world together. Sarah had accepted out of necessity the history between herself and Peter, but Olivia knew there were issues there. Sarah hadn't quite forgiven him for hurting Olivia so badly all those years ago. In spite, or maybe _because _of the fact that the relationship between the two women wouldn't exist if he hadn't accidentally trampled over the blonde's heart. "He did," Olivia admitted, without elaborating about how much. He was right, she knew it. And she still felt sick when she entered the kitchen, still worried because Sarah actually _had _been resting when she came home. "Did he…how much did you two talk about?" Olivia asked. Did Sarah already know about her failure to fix things?

"Not much." Sarah's hand found Olivia thigh, squeezing gently. "You're still off the hook though. That guy from Massive Dynamic called, the one who's terrified of me."

Situation aside, Olivia couldn't help but smile a little. "They're _all _terrified of you."

Sarah rolled her eyes, which did nothing to hide the self-satisfied glint there. "Nina Sharp's lapdog."

"Brandon. I'll be sure to inform him of his new nickname the next time I see him."

"New to him, not to me." Then, in a steady tone completely devoid of laughter, "I know you didn't get anywhere with Bell's old projects. And I know you wouldn't be drinking with Peter if Walter had anything up his sleeve." Olivia opened her mouth to speak and Sarah kissed her again, derailing the response. 'It's okay," the brunette declared after a few seconds of contact.

Olivia wanted to sob again, scream, hit something until her hands split open. It wasn't okay. Nothing about this was okay. But Olivia still lied and said it was. "Peter is going to talk to Walternate, see what kind of treatments they have Over There. We're going to get you better."

Sarah nodded, but the gesture seemed more an acquiescence than a confirmation. "Well. Unless Walternate is going to work his miracles within the next week, I'm going to have to tell John before Savannah does."

Olivia looked away for a moment, not because John didn't deserve to know. Because she knew Sarah had been putting it off, hoping it wouldn't be necessary. But the redhead would be home in seven days, and telling her was unavoidable. Sarah had already started the chemo that was only supposed to prolong the illness, and while the side-effects weren't as bad as they could be, the brunette was already starting to look closer to the age she would've been if not for the time jump.

"You don't have to tell him alone," Olivia stated, knowing already what the response would be.

"_Savannah _I don't have to tell alone," Sarah corrected, though she punctuated the words with another gentle squeeze to Olivia's leg. "And believe me, I don't plan to. But thank you for the offer."

Olivia nodded, unsurprised. John had nothing against her, despite some initial shock at his mother's choice to be with another woman. He and Olivia even loved each other in their own way, because of Sarah. But John had never bonded with the FBI agent the way he had with Charley Dixon, or even some of the men Sarah had used for survival before that. John belonged to Sarah, and she'd bear the full responsibility of telling him, regardless of the pain involved. Savannah was different. Olivia had been around since the kid was six. She'd comforted her after terrible dreams, when Sarah was trapped too deeply in her own nightmares to be of help. Olivia had spent birthdays and Christmases with Savannah, and much as she valued the private time with her lover, she ached for the girl when Savannah went off with Ellison. Savannah was _theirs_, and it was their responsibility to break the news to her. Together. Olivia had absolutely no idea how that was going to work.

Based on Sarah's next words, Olivia's emotions were written clear across her face. "Don't worry about it now. We have time before Savannah's back."

"Yeah," Olivia agreed, more to herself than to Sarah. They had time before Savannah got here. But how much time did they have before Sarah _wasn't _here anymore?

* * *

A few hours later, Olivia was laying at the end of the couch, Sarah sprawled out in front of her, occupying the space between her legs. The blonde ran distracted hands over her lover's neck and shoulders, trying to focus on the TV screen, not on how much weight Sarah seemed to have lost in just the last few weeks.

"All right. Where are you?"

Olivia blinked repeatedly, thumb brushing against Sarah's earlobe. "Right here," she stated, hands encircling Sarah's waist and squeezing lightly to make the point. "Where else?"

"You're not here. We're watching _Land of the Lost _and you haven't said one smartass thing about the crap I watched when I was a kid."

They indulged in this occasionally, a sharing each other's guilty pleasures that usually resulted in shocked bewilderment for whoever was being exposed to the other one's child or teen enjoyments. Technically there was a fourteen year age gap between them, it was just that time travel had erased most of that difference.

"The sets are horrible, the plotlines are horrible, the acting is horrible. I thought it would be overkill to point any of that out," Olivia replied, pretending she'd been paying more than cursory attention and dropping a kiss in Sarah's hair.

"It would be. Never stopped you before."

"It's the worst thing I've ever seen in my life. Are you happy now?"

"You worked Fringe cases for six years and _this _is the worst thing you've seen?"

"In the fictional realm, yes."

"I was nine years old."

"And I made better dinosaurs out of paper mache when I was six. What's your point?" Olivia questioned one hand leaving Sarah's waist to comb through soft brown locks.

There were a few beats of silence. Then, "Nina's lapdog told me they just filed a patent on something that keeps the chemo from killing your hair. Can't cure me, but they can save me from having to shave my head. That's something anyway."

"Stop thinking about that," the blonde admonished, the arm draped across Sarah's stomach tightening convulsively.

"Why, because you weren't?"

Lacking the will to lie, Olivia brushed her lips over Sarah's scalp again. 'You could never look bad to me."

Sarah chuckled a little. She took the hand that was on her stomach and brought it to her lips, ghosting them against Olivia's fingers. "That's sweet. I still want my hair."

"You'll have it. You'll have everything. You'll be fine."

Sarah was quiet a moment. When she spoke again, there was nothing teasing in her voice. "I need you to do something for me."

Olivia was carefully easing Sarah off of her before the sentence was finished. "What's wrong? You need a blanket? Did you eat enough tonight?" she asked for the third time, berating herself for staying out with Peter. "I can heat something up-"

"Liv."

Sarah was still holding one of her hands, but that wasn't what kept Olivia on the couch. Her sister used the shortened version of her name all the time. To Ella and Savannah, she was Aunt Liv. Sarah hardly ever used the nicknamename, at least outside of the bedroom. Olivia stopped moving, let Sarah switch off thee plasma screen and sit up on her own.

"It's not that simple, what I need from you," Sarah stated once she was facing the other woman. "I know how hard it is to stop living in the past, stop obsessing over the future. I know me asking you to do that is incredibly hypocritical."

"Sarah, I'm not-"

"Liv. When did we last have a conversation that didn't start with you telling me to rest or asking if I'd taken my pills?"

Olivia closed her eyes for a moment. "I worry about you. You can't ask me to stop doing that."

"No, I can't. I wouldn't. I'm asking you to try and stop seeing your mother every time you look at me."

"I don't-"

"You do. You get stuck in the past, in those times when you were a kid and you saw what your mother became. And then you race ahead in your mind, and you see me like that."

Olivia didn't attempt to lie again, just ducked her head so Sarah wouldn't see the tear trying to escape from her right eye.

The other woman brushed her fingers along Olivia's chin, forced the blonde to look at her. Then Sarah kissed the moisture away. She'd done something similar six years ago, during their first night together. "I know you can't forget. I couldn't forget what that first terminator did, how it took away Reese and my friends and my mother. And when I wasn't thinking about that, I was thinking about the future, about _everything_ and _everyone_ being taken away. I thought about losing John, fixated on it. Fixated on what he'd have to face if I actually managed to keep him alive. And in some ways it helped. It was torture, but it kept me going, kept me focused. But I also missed out. On him. I understand that we were never going to have a white picket fence or a dog in the backyard, not with Judgment Day hanging over us. But there were times when he was happy, and I could've been happy with him, and I wasn't. I was so focused on what was coming that I missed good moments. A lot of them. I don't want that anymore."

Olivia said nothing. Peter had already given her this talk, a version of it anyway. He'd told her to go home and be with Sarah, but she'd only taken half his advice. She was home, but Sarah hadn't been wrong about the fact that she wasn't _here_.

"You said earlier that you need me."

"You know I do."

Sarah nodded, drew the other woman into a hug. "I'm here," she whispered, planting soft kisses wherever she could reach. Then she pulled back enough to frame Olivia's face with her palms. "I'm here now. And I need for you to be too. Don't think about the past or the future, just be with me right now."

Sarah was wiping her tears away, kissing others. Olivia let it happen, not thinking about the how she'd cried more in the past three weeks than in her entire thirty-six years of existence. She kissed Sarah's hands, leaned into them, made herself ignore the bruising. "I'm sorry. I should know how to handle this better."

"No one knows how to handle this. And despite what you think, it's not your job to save me."

Olivia opened her mouth to protest but Sarah kissed her silent. She could taste the salt of her tears on the brunette's lips.

"Just be here. Focus on the here and now. I know you won't be able to do it all the time. I won't be able to do it all the time, but we need to try. Especially when Savannah gets back.

Olivia put her forehead against Sarah's, breathed in the scent that had come to mean home. "Okay," she whispered because she couldn't do or say anything else. Except one thing. "I love you."

"I know. Love you too. Remember that."

Olivia nodded. Because she had to. Because she thought that that one thing might be all she had to hold on to anymore, to keep her from reliving the past or imagining the unimaginable. A future without Sarah. Olivia held the woman tighter, pressing a kiss to her cheek.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Shorter chapter, but faster turnaround time, so hopefully the tradeoff is fair. Again it's late, again I'm postponing a more thorough edit until tomorrow. Speaking of, the title for this fic is a lyric yanked from a Sarah Mclachlan song called 'Hold On'. In chapter one, I didn't want the lyrics to the song giving away the plot, and in two I was just lazy and exhausted, so I'm making the clarification now. Though anyone possessing an even passing familiarity with my work shouldn't be surprised that I pilfered a lyric for my own purposes.

Thank you to those who reviewed. You may notice from the (relatively) quick update time that feedback really does keep the muse functioning. Leave your thoughts on your way out, and thanks for taking the time to read.

* * *

"God you look terrible."

"Savannah," Olivia scolded sharply.

Summoning up a fake smile and a roll of the eyes, Sarah pulled Savannah against her, lips finding the girl's temple. The hug was quicker than she would've liked, but she didn't want to risk the redhead noticing the weight loss. "A month away and the first thing out of your mouth is an insult. Great."

"It's an observation, not an insult," Savannah corrected, though she had the decency to look sheepish as she said it.

"It's just a flu bug," Olivia said quickly. They'd waited at the gate for twenty minutes before Savannah's plane landed, with Sarah tense and edgy the entire time. The fact that she had iron-clad identification, that her girlfriend carried an FBI badge, those things did nothing to lessen Sarah's dislike of airports. Too much security, too many cameras, too many people to keep an eye on. Olivia tried not to care that Sarah still had issues with the notion that she, Olivia, could watch out for her.

"Flu bug," Savannah repeated.

Olivia couldn't fault the kid for skepticism. Sarah actually looked better today than she had on some others. No bags under the eyes, no visible bruising. She was still obviously exhausted, pale as hell, not at all what Savannah would've been expecting. "Got it from someone at work," Olivia continued, infusing her voice with the proper amount of regret as she squeezed Sarah's arm.

"Nice to know the people serving the food are also getting sick all over it," Savannah replied, still studying the dark haired woman. "And you wonder why I don't eat at the diner." The sarcasm in Savannah's voice was warm and familiar rather than biting.

"You don't eat at the diner because there's some unwritten law that says you need to be perpetually embarrassed of me for the next ten years," Sarah countered, running a hand through Savannah's hair.

"Could be that. Could be that the food just sucks."

"Watch your language," Olivia interjected, lips curved upward. "And come here. Or do I not get a hello?" she asked, arms open, eyebrows raised.

Savannah shot a last glance at the brunette before her gaze found the woman at Sarah's side. Without hesitation, the redhead crossed to Olivia, letting herself be folded into another embrace. "Hey Aunt Liv."

"Hey yourself," Olivia replied softly, dropping a kiss to Savannah's hair. The girl's face wasn't visible to her now, but she could hear the smile in Savannah's voice and it made her forget for half a second about everything else.

"I missed you." The words came out muffled against Olivia's black leather jacket.

"Missed you too, sweetheart." The blonde ran a gentle hand through long red hair and held Savannah tighter.

"So. She was missed, and I look terrible," Sarah drawled. "Guess we'll pretend that's fair."

"It _is _fair," Savannah retorted, pulling back from Olivia to regard Sarah again. "Because you _do _look terrible, and she _was _missed. And so were you," Savannah added, favoring the brunette with another hug to emphasize the point.

Sarah let this one go a little longer, made herself feel all the joy and none of the other stuff. When the contact finally broke, she and Olivia began walking with Savannah between them, the redhead refusing Olivia's offer of help with her carry-on bag.

"You have a good time?" Sarah asked as they moved through the airport

"Uh-huh," Savannah confirmed, blue eyes alight with mischief. "Sorry to disappoint."

Sarah made a noise in the back of her throat. "You honestly think I want you to be miserable with him?"

"No. You just want me to be more miserable with Uncle James than I am with you guys."

"I'm not dignifying that with a response."

"You just did."

Sarah shook her head, attempted to hide her smile. "Did James bother to feed you before you left?"

"He would've. Except we both figured you'd want to." Savannah made a face. "Please say we're not eating at the diner."

"We're not eating at the diner. I've been banished until I look not-terrible enough to stop frightening the customers." That would at least explain why she wouldn't be getting up for work in the morning. She and Olivia had both agreed that dropping the cancer bombshell the minute Savannah's feet touched the ground wasn't the best strategy. Though Sarah got the feeling that Olivia would've agreed to just about any course of action that she, Sarah, wished to take. They owed the girl at least one good day before letting her know how bad the ones ahead might get.

"What about Donovan's?" Olivia asked. "We could see if they still have that apple pie you drooled over." Then she and Sarah had to stop walking, because that's what Savannah had done.

"We haven't been to Donovan's since I was nine."

"I'm aware," the blonde replied. Their one and only visit there was three years ago, on the anniversary of what should've been Judgment Day. Sarah had insisted they commemorate it, but only the one time. After that, they refused to let that date have any power over their lives. Or at least _pretended_ that it didn't matter anymore "I'm also aware that their sandwiches were pretty amazing."

Savannah looked at Sarah, a question clear in her eyes.

The brunette smiled, briefly meeting her lover's gaze over the child's head. Olivia hadn't discussed it with her, but Sarah understood her line of thinking. Donovan's had been a good day, a very good day. Maybe they could recapture a bit of that. Sarah thought she could manage most of a meal, for Savannah's sake. Not much, but it was something.

"You want to drive forty-five minutes out of your way, into the part of the city with the roads that you hate, so we can go to Donovan's?" Savannah pressed. Her right eyebrow was raised slightly higher than her left, an unconscious imitation of Sarah.

"_I _won't be driving," Sarah replied, catching Olivia's eyes again. "And I remember my sandwich being good. I also remember that you _did _practically drool over the pie. So yeah, I think we should go to Donovan's."

Savannah was still giving her an odd look. "What's the occasion?"

Suppressing a sigh, Sarah pushed a bang out of the redhead's face. She hated the fact that Savannah assumed she had an angle here almost as much as the fact that she _did _have one. "The occasion is that you're home. And that's a good thing, because I'm very fond of you. Despite the fact that you've become a complete smartass, in bad need of a haircut."

Savannah rolled her eyes, but the suspicion there seemed to clear, and there was a smile on her face when she next spoke. "Love you too, Aunt Sarah."

"Good to know," Sarah replied, letting her lips find Savannah's temple again. "Now let's get your bags so we can get out of here."

* * *

"All unpacked," Savannah announced upon entering the living room.

Standing near the fridge, Sarah drank from a glass of water, glad Savannah hadn't been here to see the pills enter her mouth. Olivia was seated at the kitchen table with a stack of paperwork, and Sarah could see with one glance that her lover's thoughts weren't far from her own. To her credit though, there was no hint of unease in Olivia's voice when she addressed the girl.

"Good. I have a few more notes to make on this case report, but I was thinking maybe later we could get a movie, heat up the rest of that lunch you didn't finish?"

Crossing from living room to kitchen, Savannah joined Olivia by the table without sitting down. "I didn't finish because if I had, I wouldn't have been able to finish the pie. And the pie's too good not to finish. Leftovers and a movie sound good, but I'd like it better if you guys just told me what's going on," the redhead stated, eyes shifting to catch Sarah's.

"What do you mean?" Olivia asked, sensing the futility of it without being able to stop herself.

The answer was aimed at Sarah instead of the blonde. "Donovan's. You two sounding weird whenever I talked to you the last few times." As she spoke, Savannah ticked the points off on her fingers. "You, talking to Uncle James for an hour last night."

"We're friends," Sarah argued. "We talk."

Savannah's face was pure disbelief. "You don't talk for an hour. Now that the world isn't ending, you don't have that much to talk _about_."

Sarah tried not to cringe at that, at the implication that everything was fine just because everything hadn't _ended _four years ago.

"And you were sleeping when I came out here for a soda," Savannah added.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "I was resting my eyes."

"You were napping."

Sarah repressed a sigh. She really, _really _hadn't wanted to do this yet. "Does napping have some larger meaning that I'm not aware of?"

"For you? I've seen you stay up two or three days, barely any sleep. Never saw you take an afternoon nap before. And you two do this side-glance thing with each other when you're lying to me, that you think I don't notice. But I do. So can you just tell me what's going on please, and stop pretending I'm stupid?"

"You're not stupid," Sarah stated, looking at Olivia and thinking she may've taught the redhead a bit too well.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Olivia set her report aside. Getting up from her chair, the blonde went to Savannah, placing a hand on her back as Sarah preceded them out of the kitchen. "Come on," Olivia said quietly. "Let's sit down and talk."

* * *

All in all, Sarah had found it much easier to tell Miles Dyson about his role in ending the world. Not much had been required of her then, all she'd done for most of that time was sit there and smoke, letting the terminator do the hard stuff. Sarah almost envied him now. She wished she could be emotionless, not care as Savannah's face crumpled, grew ashen. She and Olivia were on the couch, Savannah occupying a chair that usually stayed near the window. The girl sat in front of them with her hands clasped and her head down, almost between her knees. Her red hair was a shocking contrast to her too-pale skin, and Sarah half-expected her to puke. Or at least threaten to, as Dyson had. She hadn't smoked in years, hadn't _wanted _to in years. She wanted a cigarette now. Concerns of lung cancer were more or less out the window at this point.

"How bad is it?" Savannah finally asked. Her head went up, eyes finding theirs, but her posture was still terrible. She was almost doubled over, as if they'd taken turns punching her in the gut. "How…how long are you…?"

Olivia's hand squeezed hers, and Sarah fought an urge to glance at the other woman. Apparently it was a tell, and Sarah didn't want the kid to know that she wasn't being totally truthful. "It's early right now. I'm getting treatments, I'm taking the pills I'm supposed to take. We're not going to know how effective anything is for awhile yet."

Savannah shook her head. She wasn't crying, but her voice was rough, hollow. "Which means it's bad and you don't want to say that."

From her place at Sarah's side, Olivia bit the inside of her cheek, giving herself a different kind of pain to focus on. "We're doing everything we can. Walter and Peter, Nina. They're all doing everything they can to help."

Sarah ran her thumb over Olivia's knuckle, a silent gesture of thanks. She would've preferred to play it like she had with Dyson, let Olivia do all the talking. But that would be incredibly unfair, since this was killing both of them equally. So Sarah caressed her hand. If nothing else, she could be grateful she wasn't alone.

A few more beats of silence passed. Savannah blinked too hard, too many times, tried to hide it behind the curtain of her hair. But she didn't cry. And then she straightened up a bit, eyes landing on Olivia. "Walter…Walter's cured some pretty crazy things, right?"

"He has," Olivia replied carefully. The specifics of her cases were supposed to be classified, but Walter had a tendency to forget that during the occasions Savannah used to visit the lab. The girl didn't know everything, not even close, but she'd heard more stories from Walter than Broyles or his superiors probably would've been comfortable with.

"And Peter always helps. And Massive Dynamic, they're always coming out with new treatments for everything, right?"

"Seems that way," Olivia nodded, tone still cautious. Her faith in Nina's miracle fixes had been severely eroded within the last few weeks. But Savannah was sitting up more and her eyes weren't so overly-bright, so the FBI agent bit the inside of her mouth again.

"So you'll beat it," Savannah declared, addressing Sarah. "People beat cancer all the time. You'll beat it."

Sarah closed her eyes, felt Olivia's gaze burning into hers with an intensity that .almost matched Savannah's Knowing the impact of what she was about to do, Sarah slipped her hand free from that of the blonde. "I'm going to try, Savannah."

It wasn't the answer the girl wanted. The fact that she looked like she'd been slapped instead of punched this time was hardly an improvement. "You can. You have to. You've fought so much worse than this."

"I've fought _different _than this, Savannah, I don't…it's different. I'm trying. That's all I can say right now." She'd half-lied about the severity of it, the bleak timeframe, but she'd never been good at providing blatantly false hope.

Savannah shook her head, more vehemently this time. "It's _not _different," she argued. "You went through time before, you can do it again. We can fix it or skip it or something."

Sarah's stomach dropped a little, green eyes instinctively finding green. Olivia's shock matched her own, ruling out the possibility that this was the blonde's doing. Savannah didn't know the details of Fringe Division, didn't even know about the other universe. It'd seemed too much to explain to a kid who'd been eight when the final battles were being waged. So too had the idea of time travel. John was different, he'd been raised on it, and even he'd thought it insane for much of his life. Explaining it to Savannah, even taking into account her knowledge of the machines… So Sarah had been vague on the details of where Weaver took off to, and eventually Savannah had stopped asking. So what was the explanation then for what the girl had just said?

"It's all in the tapes," Savannah stated, reading their disbelief for what it was.

Sarah made an effort to close her mouth, mentally swearing the entire time. She'd almost forgotten the records she'd made precisely _because _she couldn't forget about Judgment Day, the shakiness of their victory. "How long have you known?"

"Last November. You made me clean out the attic."

"And you interpreted cleaning to mean snooping."

"You had them in a box with my name on it," Savannah retorted. "I thought they were Christmas gifts for God's sake."

"Whatever happened to not spoiling the surprise?" Sarah snapped, more angry with herself than Savannah. She'd meant to store them somewhere else, meant to move them so many times. She'd gotten complacent, sucked into the ease of this new existence with Olivia and Savannah.

"You hate surprises. And John said to always check my presents from you ahead of time so I didn't end up with a pair of cammo pants or a cleaning kit for the gun that I'm too young to have," Savannah retorted.

Most girls her age argued for makeup rights. Savannah was lobbying for gun use. Pinching the bridge of her nose to ward off a headache, Sarah said, "If you heard the tapes, you know how dangerous time travel can be, the consequences."

"And what about the consequences of you dying?" Savannah countered. The edge of desperation in her voice was becoming more and more noticeable. "Everything gets cured eventually. Walter can build another machine, we can get to a time after it's been cured and bring the cure back here-"

"Savannah," Olivia cut in. "You can't expect Walter to build a time machine from nothing." She should sound more convincing, but she couldn't. Because Walter _had _experimented with time travel before, Savannah just didn't know it. There were other reasons she was coming off less than persuasive, but Olivia wasn't prepared to deal with those.

"Not if you don't give him a chance to try!"

"Savannah," Sarah stated. "Even if he was willing to try, I'm not. All right? Despite what I said in those tapes, you have no _real _idea of what it took to get to this point." She also had no idea about Sarah's true relationship with Cameron, or that Sarah had already tried avoiding the cancer once. Even her record of the truth was tinged with lies of omission, but Sarah couldn't let herself feel the guilt of that now. "Aside from all the logistical reasons that this is more complicated than you think…we change anything at all, we could change Judgment Day. Make it happen again, make things worse than they almost were. It's not worth the risk. I'm sick now, and I have to deal with that. I can't run from it."

"No. _We _have to deal with that. We. Not just you. And you saying you can't run is pretty funny considering how many times you drilled it in to me that running was so important."

"From _machines_, Savannah. Machines. Ones that you don't have to face right now because we finally managed to get something right. We can't take the chance of undoing that."

"But you could take the chance of losing preparation time. You jumped ahead and you lost so much time that you could've spent getting ready, trying to stop it."

"If you listened to the tapes, you know I thought of that."

"Yeah. And you still went through time." A pause. "Does John know?"

"What?" The rapid change of subject had thrown Sarah off-balance.

"Did you tell John yet? He's working on the boat so you can't take him out for pie to make him feel better, but did you tell him? Send him a box of pancake mix or something?"

"Savannah," Olivia began.

Unlike a few hours ago, the warning in her voice had no effect on Savannah. "Did you tell him or not?"

Sadness and frustration had Sarah clenching a hand against her own knee. Part of her would've liked to cling to Olivia instead, but she was starting to understand that that option was temporarily off the table. "No, I haven't told John. Now what does that have to do with anything?"

"Because if John knew, we wouldn't be arguing about this. Because you went through time before to save _him_, and now that it's about you instead, you won't do it."

"It's not about me, Savannah. It's about you. And everyone. And as much as you want me to promise that I'll beat this, rest of the world be damned, I can't do that. I'm sorry."

"You can't," Savannah said flatly. "John told me that you promised him you'd save the world. And you can't promise me that you'll fight to save yourself the way you fought to save him."

"I _am _fighting Savannah. I told you that. I just can't-"

"Tell John," Savannah interrupted, voice cracking with unshed tears. "Get on that radio you have in the study, whatever it is you use to talk to him, and go tell him right now."

"Why now, Savannah?" Olivia asked, heart shredding under the weight of too many emotions.

Savannah didn't take her eyes off of the brunette. "Because if you tell John, he'll ask you to do whatever you can to save yourself, because he needs you. And so do I. But if he says it, it'll matter more to you, and you'll listen."

Sarah jerked, felt the air leave her lungs as surely as if she'd taken a kick to the stomach. Her body went cold, and if she hadn't been sitting down already, she would've needed to. She felt like she had in the kitchen, right before she collapsed. Olivia's had touched her arm again, but even that was barely enough to keep her steady.

"I did promise the world to John," Sarah said in a voice that didn't sound like hers. Olivia had opened her mouth to say something a second earlier, but Sarah cut her off. The implications of Savannah's last remark cut so deep that Sarah had to write the comment off as the product of anger and fear in the heat of the moment. Because if it was anything more substantial than that… "Literally. And I shouldn't have. I offered him too much, I never should've made that promise."

"You kept it," Savannah refuted. "You _stopped _it. We're safe now and you're still using it as an excuse to-"

"We are not s_afe_!" Sarah snapped. She was so far out of her depth and it was the only familiar thing, all she knew how to say. "You think I would've made those tapes if we were? You know better than that. You _have _to."

"All right, that's enough," Olivia stated, eyes cutting daggers into Sarah. She was well aware that the brunette would never fully believe that it was over, and she knew Sarah had her reasons, good ones in fact. But reminding Savannah at this particular time that nothing in her world was solid, Olivia wasn't going to stand for that.

Savannah meanwhile was shaking her head, in disgust and frustration this time She rose from the chair, took a full step before Sarah's voice halted her progress.

"Don't walk away from me. We're not done here."

"Sarah," Olivia cautioned tightly.

Savannah sat down again, but the anger in her eyes was hot enough to melt an endo. There was a thick hardback novel on the table between them, something Sarah had been reading before she'd fallen asleep earlier. Savannah stared at it now, arms crossed, because she couldn't look at the brunette without crying.

"Savannah." Sarah's voice was hard, commanding.

Savannah couldn't take it. She wanted out and Sarah wouldn't let that happen. And she wasn't going to let the woman see her cry. The brunette told her to stay and she'd listened like the good soldier she was apparently still expected to be, but there was nothing Sarah could say at this point that would interest her. She grabbed the book from the table, to mask how close she was to tears. And to prove that the woman couldn't break her, not even when she pulled the drill sergeant routine.

And then Sarah proved that she _could _break her.

Quicker than Olivia or the girl could see, Sarah leaned across the table, snatching the novel from Savannah's hands and flinging it aside with enough force that, for that moment at least, it would've been impossible for anyone to believe she was losing her strength. "Look at me when I talk to you!"

The book thudded against the far wall hard enough to leave the hint of a dent. Savannah's heart was thudding too, pounding in her ears. Sarah hadn't touched her, but Savannah shook as if she had, a violent spasm wracking her body as the tears finally came. When she left the chair this time, running for the sanctuary of her room, no one stopped her. The sound of her door slamming shut was loud enough to rattle the walls.

Olivia wanted to say something. Scream at Sarah. Go after Savannah. She couldn't move. Her own hands were shaking, a combination of fear and anger. She looked at Sarah in abject shock, but she was only half-seeing the other woman. Part of her was five years old again, with her stepfather and his rages that came from nowhere and everywhere. She flashed on a drawing she'd made right before he came in and started screaming at her because the kitchen table she was sitting at wasn't clean enough. He'd crumpled up the drawing, swept crayons and a plate of cookies to the ground. Then he'd belted her across the face. All within a few seconds of walking in the door.

"Oh God," Sarah whispered, barely audible. She knew Olivia was scrutinizing her, couldn't face the other woman. It was a relief when Olivia got up and crossed to the window that was usually Sarah's lookout point in the pre-dawn hours. She was as far away as she could get without actually leaving the room. Sarah sat forward, much like Savannah had earlier. She breathed deep so she wouldn't puke.

Olivia had never seen her like that. For a time, Sarah thought she'd never have to. She'd been rough with John before. Never abusive, but she'd forced his chin up at times, pulled a little too hard when he started to walk away from her. Shoved him down and forced his head up when _he_ made the mistake of saying they were safe. She'd never touched Savannah like that, never done anything close to what had just happened.

Eventually Olivia picked up the book, setting it on an end table. She was on autopilot, cleaning up the aftermath of Sarah's episode the same way she'd cleaned up the food, glass and crayons after her stepfather went to his bedroom. She went down the hall and put her ear to Savannah's door. There were no sounds of crying, but if Olivia's childhood was any indication, that just meant Savannah was half-smothering herself with a pillow. She knocked on the door, was told to go away, and for the time being she chose to listen. Then she went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, staring at herself in the mirror for untold minutes.

When she got back, Sarah was standing behind the chair Savannah had occupied, gripping it with white knuckles. Her head was down and her shoulders were painfully tensed. She looked up as Olivia came in, and the blonde didn't flash on any images of her stepfather. She took that as improvement, but when she crossed to Sarah, her voice was still tight with anger and resolve.

"I know you're upset," she stated. "I know she hit you with a lot, I know I probably should've done more to back you up. And I know what that conversation must've brought up for you. But don't you ever do anything like that again. Ever. I'm not watching it. I don't care how many times you lost it with John, how many reasons you had. You're not doing it with her." Olivia could tell by her expression that Sarah more than got the point, and while her own anger was far from gone, it did dissipate, become something close to manageable. "Just…we need a break. All of us. Just…let Savannah breathe for awhile, and we'll do the same. We'll figure it out."

For more than two hours, the three of them avoided each other. Savannah remained sequestered in her room, Sarah showered for an inordinately long time, even though she'd taken one this morning, and Olivia stayed in the kitchen with the case report she'd been working on. After ten minutes of reading the same paragraph, she went back to Savannah's room. She knocked and got nothing, but the door wasn't locked. She hesitated, trying not to feel like her mother, comforting Olivia after one of her stepfather's rampages.

"Savannah," she said, hand on the doorknob without fully turning it. "Sweetie, talk to me. Please."

Nothing.

Olivia opened the door, letting a rush of cold air enter the hallway. The light was off, but Olivia knew before flipping the switch that Savannah's window was open, her room empty.


	4. Chapter 4

"Still goes straight to voicemail," Sarah reported, pacing back and forth across the study.

Olivia watched her lover's knuckles turn white as they clenched against the cell phone. In her own hand, the blonde held a piece of notebook paper, crumpled from too much handling. She studied it for the twentieth time, then cut in front of Sarah, halting the brunette's thirtieth trek across the room. "If it was on we could track it, she knows that. And I know where she is."

Sarah's eyes cut into the other woman like lasers, but she still closed her phone, storing it in her pocket. "You know, or you _think _you know?"

"Think," Olivia conceded. "But we know she's okay-"

"We _don't_," Sarah refuted sharply. "And she's not." Sarah's eyes closed momentarily, shoulders slumping. "She wouldn't have left if she was."

Her tone was laden with as much guilt as anxiety, and despite her anger at Sarah's loss of control, Olivia didn't repress the urge to soothe the other woman. "Nobody's okay right now. But I'm going to go get her back, and then-"

"_You're _going to get her back? She left because of me, I'm not-"

Shaking her head, Olivia put up a hand before bringing it to Sarah's temple, briefly kneading her thumb over the area. "I really think it'd be better if it was just me for right now. And you-"

"-have a headache. And if you honestly think that's enough to keep me here-"

She didn't, and if it was just the headache that was really a migraine, she wouldn't even bother fighting about this. But in addition to rubbing the space between her eyes every two minutes, there was a hint of unsteadiness in Sarah's gait. Probably invisible to anyone who hadn't spent years studying Sarah's body and the way it moved, the hitch in her stride was glaringly obvious to Olivia. Ignoring the fear that came with that observation, Olivia was strategizing on how the hell she was going to win this argument when it suddenly became a non-issue.

There was a radio on a nearby desk, a bulky monstrosity that Sarah used to communicate with the fishing boat her son was now living on. With a loud hiss and crackle of static, the device came alive now, John's voice entering the room even though the boy himself was on another coast.

"Mom? You there?"

They both looked at the radio, then at each other. Olivia frowned in concern. There was something in John's voice. Not fear, but _something_, and if Olivia could pick up on it, then there was absolutely no chance Sarah couldn't .

Moving to the desk, Sarah picked up the radio receiver, flipping a switch to open up the channel. There was a mouthpiece with a microphone inside, and she brought that close to her lips, gripping the edge of the desk with her free hand. "John? I'm right here. You okay?"

Olivia stood back as mother and son spoke, John assuring Sarah that he wasn't in mortal danger. There was still a tightness in his voice, a shakiness. Olivia listened to Sarah talk, watched the play of emotions across her face. She'd investigated psychic links before, even shared one with Nick Lane. She didn't need that same connection with Sarah to see what the woman was thinking. Olivia knew what her lover would say before Sarah set the mouthpiece aside, putting John on hold.

"Go get her," Sarah said, anxiety toughening her voice. "If she's not where you think-"

"I'll call you," Olivia promised. Without wanting to, she'd noticed that hitch in Sarah's step when the other woman crossed back to her. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'm sick, Olivia. But I think I can handle sitting in a chair and talking to my son," Sarah snapped. Then her eyes closed tightly, her shoulders rose and fell, and most of the bite in her tone was replaced with regret. "Just find her," Sarah said, a plea this time.

"I will," Olivia replied, brushing her lips to Sarah's in the briefest of kisses. "Be right back," she added, turning on her heel. Her right hand still held the note from Savannah's room, and she looked at it as she left, just to be absolutely sure that Sarah wouldn't see the expression on her face.

Sarah surrendering on this should've been a good thing. Whatever crisis John was having had actually benefited Olivia, horrible as that was to think. But Olivia felt no satisfaction in getting Sarah to stand aside. Partially because she cared for John, worried about whatever had caused him to seek Sarah out for this unscheduled chat. Some of the blonde's concern was for John, much of it was for Sarah. Because as much as Olivia would love to think that giving up control on this one was some act of trust on the brunette's part, she knew better. If John weren't demanding her attention, there was no way Sarah would be staying here right now. Unless she felt worse than she was admitting. Against her better judgment, Olivia shot a final glance at Sarah over her shoulder. The brunette was rubbing her forehead again, and it was clear that her gait was still off, even as she sat down in the desk chair and began talking into the radio. Swallowing around a painful lump in her throat, Olivia turned into the hallway, fingers tightening convulsively against the note Savannah left.

* * *

Sarah let him pretend for a few more minutes that felt like a few hours. It wasn't quite like pulling teeth anymore, but getting information out of John could still be difficult. She exchanged pleasantries, let him go on about inconsequential things, tried not to yell, order him to spit it out. It was so much easier when he was her whole life. Every choice came back to him, every action weighed against what was best for him. Now there was Savannah to consider. Things were so much simpler before the girl came along. They were also infinitely worse, lacking a relationship that Sarah cherished now.

After checking her phone for the third time in as many minutes, Sarah's patience ran out. She didn't snap, but she was through dancing around the problem with John, whatever it was.

"I need a reason to talk to you now?" he asked lightly, after she again questioned him on what was going on.

"John." This was too cliché. It was also pointless. He kept her updated regularly enough, but there was a pattern to it. He needed captain's permission to speak on the radio he was using, permission that ten other men were constantly jockeying for. Never mind the hour. The headache and the worry kept her from caring enough to do the math, but with the time difference, it was either very late or very early for John.

He sighed and it came out covered in static. Then he finally started talking. One of the other crew members, someone named Dustin, had been walking around on deck in the middle of the night. Alone.

"Sounds smart," Sarah commented before she could stop herself.

"It gets claustrophobic in the cabins, Mom," John argued. "Besides, I came out there a few minutes after he did."

"Very smart," Sarah replied because she had a vague sense of where this was going, and it was making her already-queasy stomach even worse.

"I needed air," John countered. "Anyway. We were on opposite ends of the boat. I saw him, he didn't see me."

John proceeded to tell her about how Dustin had wandered off toward the rail, and then something about a sudden shift in the current, a freak wave. As he talked, the knot in her stomach grew progressively tighter, until he got to the part about Dustin going overboard. She knew what was coming, but when John said he'd jumped in after his friend, the knot snapped, and Sarah's stomach turned over, going into free-fall.

"You did _what_?"

"I grabbed a life-preserver first, Mom."

"I'd hope." He'd been raised mostly in the desert. He could swim, but not as well as he could handle a gun or a grenade.

"Thanks, Mom," John deadpanned. "I'm fine by the way. So is he."

"I'm proud of you," she said. She meant it, it was in her voice, but so were a lot of other things.

"Hey, I'm a better swimmer than Cameron ever was at least."

It was meant to be funny, but it was laced with bitterness. The irony was bitter too. Because John never used to be like her, running from demons in the middle of the night, not until Cameron took off. Part of the reason he himself had left, as big as the brownstone was, if he'd stuck around, mother and son would be bumping into each other ten times a night. It happened every time John visited Boston. Cameron haunted him, no matter how much he tried to downplay it. And if she didn't, if she _hadn't _on that particular night, John's crewmate would've died. That pissed Sarah off for reasons she didn't want to get into.

"Always have to be the hero, don't you?" she asked, with more warmth this time. It was a little forced, but she was trying.

John's tone on the other hand only got cooler. He was still going for ease, familiarity, but it wasn't working. "Wasn't that always my job?"

Sarah closed her eyes, clutched the receiver, remembered talking to him through a tape recorder all those times before he was born. The one-sided conversations had been so much easier. The bitterness in his voice wasn't directed at _her _anymore, but having him turn it on himself hardly seemed an improvement.

"Dustin's the real hero," he continued in a more even tone. "Three tours in Iraq before he started working the boat. You should hear what this guy has been through. Gunshots, IUD's, stabbings…"

Sarah had heard and lived more than enough war stories over the years, but she let him talk, sensing that they were getting to the root of the issue.

"It's crazy. This guy survives so much, fights for his life so hard. Then he gets back here where it's supposed to be safe, and almost loses it to a little water and a slippery deck."

Sarah wanted to remind him that there was no safety. Anywhere. She didn't, and that probably ended up being the thing that gave her away.

"Mom? You okay?"

John's concern for her was loud and clear, even through the shitty radio, but Sarah couldn't respond to it. Leukemia. She'd never been able to think of herself as the figure of legend that Kyle described. But she also hadn't pictured herself being felled by something so…mundane. A hail of bullets, a fiery inferno. At the hands of one of the machines. Those scenarios had all played out in her head a thousand times. And maybe it was just the comfort of familiarity, but she found all of those options to be less terrifying than the thought of wasting away in a hospital bed while her loved ones bore witness.

"Tell me what's going on."

John's voice was filled with the sharp command of the leader he'd never had to be, and it made Sarah blink, drawing her out of her own head. "Nothing. I'm talking to you, hoping you don't end up with pneumonia."

"No. You've sounded weird this entire time." His tone was one of revelation. As if clearing away the burdens of his own mind had created space there for him to notice hers.

Denial was Sarah's first instinct. He'd been through enough in one night. He shouldn't have to hear it like this. But he knew something was up now, and she'd hardly get him to open up more by modeling the same deflection that'd so frustrated her a few minutes ago. John still deserved a face-to-face discussion, but his boat wasn't due back on shore for weeks yet. And the conversations with the tape recorder _had _always been easier. Weak or not, it wouldn't be so bad if she didn't have to look at him. Besides, the wound was bleeding already, and if she waited for his return to land, she'd face an argument about why he'd been the last to know.

"There's," Sarah began. Her voice cracked and she had to breathe deep before starting again. "We need to talk about something."

* * *

The park was close to the house, an easy enough walk for a kid who'd been raised under the assumption that walking or running long distances might very well be a necessity for her. They hadn't been here in a long time, but Olivia had seen the place just a few weeks ago. Granted it'd been daylight then, where now it was covered in darkness. In her dream, the one that came right before everything fell apart, there'd been sun, and then there'd been fire, and the world had exploded in a white-hot flash of nuclear death.

It was cold now, and Savannah was sitting on one of the swings, like she had in the nightmare. Olivia came up to her from behind, approaching cautiously and clearing her throat so she wouldn't startle the girl. Savannah didn't turn or acknowledge her presence.

"You're going to freeze," Olivia said quietly. She had the jacket Savannah hadn't bothered to bring under her arm, and she draped it over the redhead's shoulders, holding it in place. "Put this on."

Savannah was gripping the chains on either side of the swing, making no move to get into the coat. "I'm not going to get sick," she said, voice low and rough.

Boston in late October. There was nothing to support Savannah's assertion aside from the youthful belief in one's own invincibility. Olivia wasn't sure how the girl could maintain that view given what she'd learned tonight, but kept her voice calm and steady nonetheless. "Humor me. I think you can manage that after the heart attack you almost gave me."

Small shoulders rose and fell heavily, and then Savannah released the chains, letting Olivia help her into the arms of her coat. "I left a note," she replied.

Savannah shuddered a little as the jacket went on, negating any arguments she might have about not being cold. Olivia rubbed her hands up and down the redhead's arms a few times, trying to generate heat and not snap about the note. Savannah left the window open after her departure, and the paper had fluttered to the ground in the late-night breeze. It'd taken a few moments for Olivia to see it half-hidden under the bed, and in that time, she was pretty sure she'd had a minor stroke that probably shortened her lifespan a bit. But, again because of what was discussed tonight, the blonde refrained from mentioning any of that. "You went out for some space," she said instead, paraphrasing the infuriatingly short note. "Very informative."

"You knew it wasn't Kaliba," Savannah retorted. "And I knew you'd figure out where I was if I didn't get back before you noticed."

"You knew, did you?"

Savannah half-looked at the blonde over her shoulder, holding the chains again and scraping the toe of her sneaker against the ground. "You're a profiler. You spend all day figuring people out, what they're going to do. Broyles says you're the best he ever saw. So if you couldn't use those skills on me, that'd be pretty sad and pathetic."

"I don't know if that was a compliment or an insult, but I guess I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," Olivia replied with raised eyebrows. Then she claimed the swing next to Savannah's. She waited for the girl to meet her eyes rather than ordering her to do it. "Don't ever do that again. Ever." She'd said the same thing to Sarah when the brunette lost her temper, but her voice was much softer this time. The steel was still there though. "You know why you can't."

Savannah looked like she was about to protest, say something flip about the likelihood of terminators and Kaliba attacking them in the suburbs Then she closed her mouth and swallowed, bright blue eyes focusing on familiar green. "I know. Sorry. I just…"

She didn't finish and Olivia didn't ask her to. "I know," she said, parroting the redhead's words. "I'm sorry we had to tell you that."

"Not your fault." It was almost a mumble. Savannah was studying the ground again, using her foot to make the swing move a little.

Olivia sighed, feeling indescribably weary. "I'm sorry it ended the way it did. That shouldn't have happened."

"Not your fault," Savannah responded. Then her gaze locked with Olivia's again, and there was anger and frustration in her tone. "I can't be around her when she gets that way. I've told you that."

She had. Olivia had been forced to play peacekeeper between them more times than she could count. It'd never gotten this bad before, and Savannah had never bolted. She noticed the girl's seeming determination to treat this like any other dispute, but didn't comment on it. Instead she said, "Years ago, before I knew you, Walter and Peter had a…disagreement."

"Shocking," Savannah drawled. She'd been privy to one of their bickering sessions practically every time she saw the two.

Olivia shook her head in the negative, choosing her words carefully. She had to make her point without mentioning the fact that Walter had stolen his son from another universe. "This was different. Worse. Peter found out something he couldn't deal with, and he left. For weeks, we didn't know where he was, if he was okay. We wanted to help him and we couldn't. And we were all worried."

Savannah looked like she was about to ask something else, but the look in Olivia's eyes and the pain in her voice seemed to change her mind. "I'm sorry," she repeated, not throwing in a defense this time.

Again, Olivia shook her head, brushing off the apology. "Sure you're warm enough?"

"Yes, Aunt Liv."

Olivia ignored the tone that spoke of overprotectiveness and long-suffering indulgence of silly parental fears. Her concern for Savannah was coupled with the knowledge that Sarah's immune system was weakened, that she didn't need to catch anything Savannah might bring home with her. But she didn't mention that, at least not now. No point in making the girl feel worse.

They didn't speak for a time. Savannah was still pushing off with her foot to make the swing move, and the only sound was that of the chains creaking in the night. Eventually Olivia stood up, resuming her original position behind Savannah. Gently, she began pushing the swing so that the girl was actually getting some proper use out of it.

"You haven't done this since before we went to Donovan's the first time," Savannah remarked.

"I haven't," Olivia agreed, still pushing the swing. "And?"

"And I'm too old for it," Savannah griped. There was nothing behind her words, and she did nothing to halt the blonde's actions.

"I'll let you know when you're too old for it," Olivia replied. For now, she allowed the girl her silence, knowing there'd be a reward if she showed a bit of patience. She was proven right a few minutes later.

"I hate her," Savannah declared.

The girl's voice was back to being raw and hollow, but Olivia was determined not to let that affect her. "You don't," she refuted the next time the swing came her way.

Savannah didn't rescind her statement, nor did she deny Olivia's. "She's a hypocrite."

The redhead didn't elaborate so Olivia prompted her, though she knew already where this road would lead. "Why?"

"Because. There are ways of fixing this, and she won't even consider using them."

Olivia closed her eyes for a moment, biting her lower lip. "Time travel has consequences, Savannah. She's not wrong about that. We don't even know if it can-"

"She won't even _consider _it," the girl repeated stubbornly. "That makes her a hypocrite."

"Because?"

The swing went back and forth twice before Savannah answered. "Because if it was John who was sick, she wouldn't sweep it off the table. She'd at least think about risking it. But it's her instead of him, so she won't even make it an option."

"Yes," Olivia replied after a moment, knowing she was heading into dangerous territory. "If it was John, she probably _would _make it an option."

The 'probably' wasn't needed, but Olivia put it there anyway. She'd seen what could happen when people used science, technology like the TDE, to bend the rules of nature. Usually the results were disastrous. But more often than not, they weren't caused by those seeking power or control, but by people using that technology to try and save those they cared about, or restore them after they'd been lost. And as much as Sarah prized the balance they'd achieved in saving the world, as loathe as she was to disrupt that, Olivia couldn't say her lover wouldn't consider taking the risk if it was about her son's life instead of hers. But, "She'd do it for you too."

Savannah made a noise in the back of her throat that could've signaled disbelief.

Olivia caught the swing the next time around, holding it in place and speaking with quiet firmness. "Hey. She'd do it for you too, Savannah." Nothing immediately. Then Savannah's head dropped so she was studying her lap, but Olivia still saw the girl's nod. At that, she let go of the swing, pushing if forward again.

Another period of silence followed, this one briefer than the last. "Remember the first time you took me here?"

It was rhetorical, of course she remembered. Olivia answered anyway. "I do."

Savannah nodded again, still with her head down. "I was so scared."

"I know," Olivia replied. "So was I."

"You didn't show it."

"I was scared."

Terrified actually. Savannah had just turned six when they first visited this park. The war to save the world was still going strong, and Sarah had once again become a casualty of it. She'd taken a bullet for the umpteenth time, and this one wasn't a graze or a shoulder wound.

"I was so scared," Savannah repeated. "And everyone was working on her, and they all kept telling me she'd be okay. And I couldn't believe them"

Olivia wasn't surprised. She remembered how bad that wound was, how they hadn't had time to get Savannah out, keep her from seeing its effects. There'd been so much blood, so much uncertainty that couldn't be masked. She couldn't blame the child for being skeptical. Peter was good with kids, but Savannah had only known him a short time by then. Walter tried his best, but his credibility was undermined by the fact that he kept referring to the redhead as Sahara. And the doctor, Burnett, the one who took the bullet from Sarah's leg. She was busy trying to save the brunette's life. And given the fact that John and Ellison had more or less kidnapped her again, making her reenlistment into their fledgling Resistance a mandatory thing, the good doctor hadn't been in the most nurturing of moods.

The relationship with Sarah, if it could even be called that, was still in its infancy. They'd been dancing around each other when they weren't preoccupied with the task of stopping Armageddon. They were looking for reasons to avoid further intimacy. But Olivia was still scared out of her mind at the thought of Sarah's death, scared and utterly useless when it came to fixing her. So she'd taken the little girl who was also terrified and driven until they found this park.

"You said she'd be okay too," Savannah commented.

She had. They'd been right here when it happened. Six years ago though, Olivia had been using the swing, Savannah in her lap. She'd held her and made promises she couldn't be sure of keeping, hoping that if she spoke the assurances aloud, did it enough times, that they'd turn out to be true through sheer force of will. "You must've been sick of hearing that from everyone."

"No," Savannah refuted. "Not from you. I believed it when it came from you. Don't know why, I just did." A pause. "You said that after she got better, we'd come back here. The three of us."

"I did," Olivia confirmed. She shouldn't have, not then. Things with Sarah had been so shaky, _everything_ had been so uncertain.

"And we did."

Olivia didn't answer that time. Sarah wasn't aware of that conversation, didn't know how much the park's proximity had factored into Olivia's choice of real estate. And Savannah wasn't looking at her, giving no indication of what she wanted. But Olivia knew. Knowing didn't mean she could provide it this time. She'd lied to Savannah when the girl was younger, made assurances she shouldn't have. Because Savannah was six, and Olivia was already starting to feel the connection with her, even though they'd met only recently. She'd been desperate to ease the child's pain, along with her own.

Savannah was holding the chains too tightly. Her shoulders shook again, but not from cold. Her head stayed down as she released a harsh, choking gasp that turned into a sob. "I want her to be okay," she cried.

The swing came back at her and Olivia stopped it, halting the small amount of momentum. Then she put her arms around Savannah, holding her from behind as the redhead's body trembled violently under the strain of too much emotion.

"I want her to be okay, Aunt Liv," Savannah repeated. She'd sacrificed her hold on the chains for a white-knuckle grip on Olivia instead.

Her arms were stuck. Savannah was holding them, keeping them around her as if they were the only thing saving her from oblivion. Not that Olivia cared to move any time soon. She dropped kisses in Savannah's hair, moving the swing a little in a vain attempt at soothing motion. She spoke quietly into Savannah's ear, glad she'd brought the girl her jacket. It kept her from feeling the moisture of Olivia's tears dropping down on her shoulder. "I know, the blonde whispered, trying to keep her voice from cracking. "I know. Shhh."

"She has to get better. I can't…she has to. She has to be okay again."

Olivia closed her eyes. For a minute, all she could do was murmur nonsense words, saying absolutely nothing that mattered as she pulled the redhead more securely against her.

"It's not fair. She has to be okay. It's not…"

The rest got lost on a sob, and Savannah was clinging to her with so much ferocity, seemed so incredibly _young _in that moment that he blonde could no longer avoid it. She had to act.

"I know," she repeated. "I know. It's going to be all right. Okay? I promise. Shhh…it's going to be fine. I promise…it's going to be okay."

It was a cheat, and Olivia felt horrible, even as she kept saying it again and again, let Savannah grasp onto it as she poured out her grief. She said it would be fine. Over and over. 'It,' not 'she.' Not 'Sarah.' She needed to help Savannah so she cheated, because she couldn't promise that Sarah would live, not this time. So she kept saying that it would be okay, because that had to be true. Even if Sarah died, Olivia would have to make things okay again, for Savannah. She had no idea how to do that, no idea how to function or take care of the girl in a world without Sarah, but if the worst happened, she'd have to figure it out.

"It's going to be all right," she murmured. "Okay? I've got you. I've got you, I'm right here. I'm right here…it's going to be okay."

She kept saying it, again and again. Hoping that later, if the unimaginable happened, Savannah wouldn't realize what she'd done, pick up on the subtle distinction in terms that separated tonight from six years ago. Sarah being gone would be too much on its own without Savannah accusing her of lying.

* * *

Sarah managed to wait thirty minutes after Olivia returned with Savannah. Then she went to the redhead's room, rapping gently on the closed door.

"I'm changing," Savannah said in response to the knock and Sarah's utterance of her name.

The words were muffled by the door, making it hard for Sarah to gauge the girl's tone. She repressed an urge to turn the knob, with difficulty. "I'm sorry," she declared, resting a palm on the middle of the door to keep from going for the knob again.

A pause. "Me too."

Still muffled. Sarah couldn't tell if the apology was genuine, or Savannah's way of ending the conversation. She decided to assume it was heartfelt, basing her choice on Olivia's synopsis of their conversation. Closing her eyes, Sarah recalled Savannah's comments about John, added in what the girl said to Olivia. Contemplating those things worsened her headache, made her feel like she'd taken a gut-punch.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Sarah let the weariness win out, just this once. Shifting so her back was to the wall, Sarah slid down its length until she was sitting on the hardwood, Savannah's door immediately to her right. "I don't…" She took a breath, started again, tried to keep her voice steady. "John was my whole life, I know you know that, And when we took you, I didn't think I had anything left to give. That's why I couldn't…" That's why Sarah had let Ellison handle issues concerning Savannah, in the beginning at least. Because she'd had John, and John had been reeling from the loss of Cameron. So had she, but admitting any of that wasn't a possibility. "I didn't think I had anything to offer you. But I found something. Because you needed me. Because you…" Kept her sane when John was lost in his own hurts. Kept her from succumbing to total self-loathing because she'd been fucking the machine her son was pining for. "Because you gave me so much, and you deserved something back. You made me want to be there for you, even though I thought I couldn't. I _still _want to be here for you. I'm fighting this, I promise. But I can't fight it by doing something that risks giving you the future in those tapes. I can't live with that. I swear to you, I'm going to do everything else I can, I'm going to fight to stay with you, John, your aunt Liv. But I can't promise anything else, I just can't. I know you need more than that…_deserve _more than that." The girl had always deserved more than what Sarah could give. "But that's going to have to be enough. I love you. I will fight like hell to stay with you. And that…that'll just have to be enough for today."

Sarah waited for a response, trying not to dwell on the fact that she was so bad at this that she was paraphrasing bits of the speech she'd used on John after Cameron went haywire. She heard nothing from Savannah, was on the point of asking if the kid was listening to her when another noise hit her ears.

Olivia crossed into the hallway by way of her bedroom, trying to pretend that she hadn't heard everything that'd been said. She went to Sarah, wishing she had words of her own. The best she could offer was an extended hand and a suggestion that they all just let it go for tonight. She didn't expect Sarah to accept the help, so when the brunette allowed herself to be pulled up, Olivia was hit with the same flood of mixed emotions she'd experienced earlier. Was Sarah's acquiescence an act of trust, or a sign of what the cancer was already doing to her? For sanity's sake, Olivia shoved those worries aside, leading her lover into their room.

Neither of them could see it, but in her own room, Savannah sat with her back against the door. She'd thought she was cried-out, but she was sobbing again, clutching a pillow to her chest and burying her face against it to keep the cries silent.

* * *

"I told John."

Olivia had been in their master bathroom, taking a brush to her hair. Now she set that aside, crossing to the dresser where Sarah was getting ready for bed. She watched the other woman slip into a tank-top, doing her best to ignore the proliferation of bruises on Sarah's hands and arms. "You didn't need to do that tonight."

"Well, I told him, so apparently I did."

"And?" Olivia asked softly.

Sighing, Sarah turned to face the blonde, leaning a hip against the dresser. John had been quiet, probably in shock. By the time that changed, his captain was ordering him off the radio. Cowardly or not, Sarah had been relieved when that happened. "I don't think he knew what to say at first. Then he was saying that he was going to come back here. Think I managed to talk him out of jumping ship and swimming to shore."

"Can you blame him?" Olivia asked.

"No," Sarah replied, tracing a palm down Olivia's cheek and neck before stopping to run her fingers through the strands of silky blonde hair that cascaded past her shoulders. "But there's nothing he can do here." A pause. "Are we going to talk about it?"

"What?"

"What you're thinking about doing, that you don't want me to know about." Another beat of silence. Then. "I know it's crossed your mind. Doing what Savannah wants."

Olivia closed her eyes, tried to back away. "What am I supposed to say here?"

"Nothing," Sarah replied, cupping the back of Olivia's neck to keep her in place. "You think I don't understand? If it was you, you don't think I'd have those same ideas in my head?"

"Then again, what do you want me to say? What's there to talk about?"

"The fact that those ideas can't turn into anything else," Sarah replied, green eyes boring into green. "You can't change anything for me. I know you realize that intellectually. Now. But are you going to remember in a few months, if things get bad? _That's _what I need to know if we have to talk about."

Olivia looked at her lover, thought about lying, decided against it. "At some point, we probably _will _have to talk about it. But not tonight." Sarah nodded, kissed her briefly, and Olivia forgot about her resolution to feign ignorance of what the brunette said to Savannah. "Tell me you meant it, about doing everything else to beat this." She sounded needy and desperate but she didn't care. Because time-travel wasn't an option, and Olivia really, _really _didn't want to face the task of rebuilding the world for herself and Savannah if Sarah were to leave it.

Sarah kissed her again. Lips, then temple. "I meant it," she promised, pulling back enough to meet Olivia's gaze. Then, forcing a lighter tone and the hint of a smirk. "You're the one who asked if I was ever going to stop looking for a fight. Should've known the answer would be no."

Sarah's hand was on her cheek again, and Olivia leaned into it, recalling the pre-dawn hours right before Sarah's collapse in the kitchen. She'd noticed the bruising on the brunette's hands, attributed it to too much time with the punching bag. And she _had _asked Sarah that question.

"I love you," Sarah declared solemnly. "So yeah, I'm going to fight to stay with you."

Olivia nodded, covered Sarah's hand with her own and continued to savor the contact. She didn't think the assurances would be enough to banish the thoughts of protecting Sarah's life by any means necessary, yet knew they would have to be. For tonight at least, those assurances were all she was going to get.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **So. Longer wait, but longer chapter. Sadly you guys will probably have to live on less frequent updates for a bit. I'm at that fun point in the school year when all the papers and projects and whatnots are demanding my attention, and I can no longer totally ignore them. That said, I appreciate all your support, and I'll try not to leave you guys hanging for too long. _That _said…I have to write a paper on Vietnam this week. So you should leave me a review. Because…Vietnam is depressing. Of course, so is cancer but…you people are here too, so you must be fellow masochists, lol.

Special thanks to 'Crimes for making me some prettyful cover images for this story as well as its predecessor. If the writing starts to suck worse than normal, distract yourselves by staring at the prettyful pictures

Finally, please note the rating change. Why has it changed? Come on, what's the best reason you can think of for a rating change in a story like this? You figure it out? Of course you did. So, mind the sex, be aware that I'm somewhat terrible at _writing _sex, and I'll catch you all later.

* * *

The wall had been haunting her for days. No names written in blood to remind her of the evils of Skynet, but it'd haunted Sarah nonetheless. There was the hint of a dent where the book she'd snatched from Savannah had impacted the plaster, and small as it was, Sarah's eyes kept drifting to the damaged area. Olivia offered repeatedly to fix it herself, the patch job was simple enough. Sarah kept declining. It was her mess, she'd resolved to handle it on her own. Even if she had to stare at it for almost a week, waiting for one of the good days, when the pills and the chemo didn't leave her knocked out.

She was busy with spackle and a putty knife when Savannah entered the main room. She'd picked up Sarah and Olivia's sleep habits, so Sarah had expected her to be up an hour ago. Still, the redhead rubbed her eyes as she made her way into the kitchen. Her eyes were on the wall rather than the brunette.

"Morning," she greeted, eyeing Sarah's activities for another second before moving to the fridge.

"Morning to you," Sarah replied. "Long night?"

Shrugging, Savannah poured a glass of milk, sipping from it instead of answering the question.

Trying to ignore the sting from Savannah's lack of response, Sarah went back to repairing the wall. It was thoughtless work that did nothing to save her from her own mind. Her interactions with Savannah suffered from continued strain. The girl wasn't disrespectful, talked to Sarah when the brunette initiated. But Savannah kept their conversations to a bare minimum, spending most of her time in her room, IPod and headphones blocking out any extra efforts at discussion Sarah might have made.

It was like living with John again, during one of their bad periods. Sarah guessed that meant she should've been used to it by now. She wasn't. Still hurt like hell. There were long beats of silence before the sound of feet on hardwood caught Sarah's attention.

"You need help?" Savannah asked. She'd wandered back into the living room, leaving her beverage abandoned on the counter. Her hands went to her pockets, shifting restlessly.

Sarah looked at the girl in surprise, noting again that blue eyes were focused on her left shoulder blade rather than Sarah herself. "I've got it," she replied, putting on her warmest smile. "Thanks though."

Savannah nodded without speaking. Sarah waited a few seconds before facing the wall again. Her shoulders were just starting to slump in disappointment when small arms encircled her from behind. Pleasantly startled, Sarah went to cover Savannah's hands with her own, remembered the plaster-covered putty knife in one of them. She went to set it aside, but Savannah was already pulling away, taking a few steps back. That was it, a too-short half-hug without an exchange of words. Sarah wasn't as delusional as her former psychiatrist used to think. She wasn't foolish enough to believe that the gesture meant that Savannah was okay with Sarah's perceived lack of effort in the curing of her illness. It was something though, more than she'd had a few minutes ago, so Sarah clung to the brief feeling of Savannah's arms around her, let that ease some of the heaviness.

Sarah finished patching the wall while Savannah wolfed down a pair of Pop Tarts that the brunette refused to think of as food. But Olivia was in the shower, and whatever crap was in the pastries that tasted like cardboard would probably be better for Savannah than anything Sarah could whip up. They were out of pancake mix, which meant that her culinary repertoire was pretty much depleted. Still, there was no nausea this morning, no exhaustion, she'd been a couple days without a nosebleed, and the old bruises had faded without too many replacements. Those things combined with Savannah's peace offering made this Saturday morning the best one in awhile.

"What was the name of that amusement park you wanted to go to?" she asked after washing up and putting her supplies away.

Savannah, who'd retrieved her laptop while Sarah worked looked at her from her place on the couch, closing the machine's lid with one hand. "What?"

"The place with the rides, you kept begging us to go. Funworld, Funland, something."

Savannah's eyebrows went toward her hairline. "Funworld," she confirmed, speaking with exaggerated slowness. "Three years ago."

"What?"

"I asked you to go to Funworld three years ago. You do know that?"

Sarah avoided a direct response, choosing to ignore the fact that Savannah's words were more question than statement. "Let's go."

"Go?" Savannah repeated.

"To Funworld. Today. Let's go."

Savannah looked as though she was expecting Sarah to morph into liquid metal at any moment. "_Why_?"

Sarah closed her eyes, did a five-count in her head. "To have fun?"

"After three years?"

"Better late than never?"

"Have you talked to Aunt Liv about this?"

Before Sarah could reply, Olivia entered through the hallway, sporting jeans and a Northwestern t-shirt. "You guys talking behind my back again?" she asked lightly, making her way to Sarah.

"Don't be paranoid," the brunette reported. The blonde's hair was still damp from the shower and Sarah brushed a hand along the ends, enjoying the feel of wet softness between her fingers. "You used to go to Funworld with Ella, right?"

Olivia tilted her head a bit, brows arching. "We went a few times. Haven't done it in years."

"See?" Savannah asked as if that proved her point.

"I don't actually," Olivia said, gaze darting between Sarah and Savannah. It was the brunette who attempted to clear things up.

"You're off, and she," green eyes briefly met blue, "hasn't left the house since she got home. We're going to Funworld."

Olivia didn't answer right away, but her face spoke volumes. Noting the blonde's expression, Savannah stood from the couch, computer tucked beneath her arm. "That would be what I said," the redhead drawled as she exited into the hallway.

"Go get dressed," Sarah retorted, addressing Savannah's back as the girl retreated to her room.

Olivia waited for Savannah's door to shut before questioning her lover. "Funworld?"

Sarah barely avoided an eye roll. "How is it that you two had less of a disbelief problem when I told you that machines were trying to blow up the world?"

"It's not…" Olivia shook her head, knowing she was headed for dangerous waters. "Are you sure you're up for it?"

Sarah almost snapped. She bit her tongue at the last moment, knowing the blonde had done nothing to deserve it. "Good days and bad days, remember?" It was rhetorical. The other woman had been next to her, holding her hand when the doctor went through all this. "Good day today. I'd like to make it better."

"I understand that, but if you overdo it-"

"-day could get bad, yeah," Sarah responded, with more bite than she'd meant to. Taking a breath, Sarah made an effort to soften her tone. "I can't be here all the time. I can't spend the good days the same way I do the bad. And I can't take Savannah like this. She looks at me like she expects me to drop any second, when she can stand to look at me at all."

Olivia tried not to flinch, shutting her mind off from images of Sarah collapsing on the kitchen floor, blood gushing from her nose. Savannah had witnessed one of the nosebleeds the day after her fight with Sarah, making a bad situation worse. "So this is you proving you're not sick?"

Sarah bit her bottom lip, wishing she could avoid the next admission, how weak it made her sound. "This is me trying to forget. It's here, it's not going away, I know that. So no, I'm not out to prove something that isn't true. But I need to get away from it when I can, or it'll make me crazy. And if I go crazy," she said, putting a hint of levity into her voice, "God help you and Savannah." Olivia smiled a little, and the brunette chose to press her advantage. "You said Ella's back from seeing Greg?"

"Yeah," the blonde nodded, "Came home a few days before Savannah did."

"You miss her."

"I do," Olivia confirmed, though it wasn't a question. She hadn't seen her niece since before the girl flew to Chicago to stay with her father.

"I'm sure Savannah does too. You could call her, see if she's busy today, if Rachel minds her tagging along."

Olivia doubted there'd be a problem on either front, but couldn't resist a bit of gentle teasing. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

Sarah's mouth curved into a smirk. "When have I ever been able to tell you to do anything?"

Olivia's lips twitched, mirroring Sarah's expression. "You just told me two minutes ago that we were going to Funworld."

"And if you really didn't want to go, or if I'd told you after you'd made it to the coffeemaker and gotten the energy to fight me on it, we wouldn't be going, would we?"

Shaking her head in amusement, Olivia brushed a lock of wild hair out of Sarah's eyes. "I'll call Rachel."

* * *

Soundlessly, Sarah pushed Savannah's unlocked door open. The girl had gotten dressed as she was told, but was back to being preoccupied with her computer. Her desk and chair faced the hallway, and Sarah read the screen without difficulty. She gave the pain a few seconds to wash over her, thought about how the effects of cancer and chemo were much easier to handle than the emotional stuff. Then she cleared her throat and spoke to the redhead. "You don't have to do that, you know. Olivia's got a stack of information two inches thick in the study. It's all boring as hell, most of it makes no sense to me, but it might save you from going blind staring at that screen."

Sarah's voice was light as she made her way into the room. Savannah jumped anyway, slamming the computer shut far too late to keep Sarah from seeing the cancer research. The bed was next to the desk, and Savannah turned her chair to face the brunette when Sarah perched herself on the edge of the mattress. Still, she was looking at her hands rather than her visitor.

"Is this what you were up all night doing? I was hoping you were texting or chatting or whatever it is you do with some long distance boyfriend James stupidly let you meet."

"Right," Savannah replied tonelessly, still studying her fingers.

"I'm serious. We both know Olivia misses the fieldwork, the interrogation. Be sort of fun to watch her traumatize some idiot kid chasing after you."

"Uh-huh."

Sarah sighed, cursing to herself. "You know I have vague memories of this time when you used to smile. Half the time it was this smartass little smirk you seem to have developed, but still." When she got nothing in the way of a response, Sarah decided to switch tactics. Her voice became softer, but more solemn as well. "I miss you smiling," she declared in a moment of raw honesty.

That earned her eye contact from Savannah, but the redhead's expression remained studiously blank. "Haven't had much reason to lately."

The tone wasn't accusatory. It wasn't anything really, and somehow that was worse than anger. "I know. I also miss you being happy."

"Not much reason for that either."

"I know that too. Trying to change it."

"With what, cotton candy and carnival games?"

"With whatever I have. Candy and games won't work, then believe me, I'm open to suggestions." She'd put herself in a bad spot there. Because the one thing Savannah wanted, the thing that would make her happiest, Sarah couldn't provide.

Savannah didn't point that out though. Instead she said, "I'm not really in the mood for happy."

That brought a wry smile to Sarah's lips. "Neither was I. Ever since the first machine came. Sometimes if you let up a little bit, it sneaks up on you."

A pause. When Savannah answered, her previously toneless voice had developed a crack. "I don't want it to," she said, barely above a whisper.

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, sighing quietly enough that Savannah wouldn't hear. "Remember what I told you, when we got through what should've been Judgment Day?"

Savannah's eyebrows went up, the barest hint of a smile gracing her lips. "I remember seeing you drunk for the first time. Which might've been more freaky than the apocalyptic stuff actually."

"I was not drunk," Sarah refuted.

"Okay," the redhead conceded. "You weren't sober either."

Sarah gave her a few moments of deflection, knowing it would make Savannah feel better. Then she took the conversation back. "What did I tell you?"

All traces of levity or sarcasm left Savannah's voice. She ducked her head briefly, but found Sarah's eyes again before answering. "You said every day after that was a gift. That we needed to treat them that way."

"Glad you were listening."

"I always listen. You get really mad when I don't."

"Yeah. And I would really like to see you happy for awhile."

"Which means what? Live like we almost died? Go out and have fun? Interesting time to start taking your own advice."

Sarah didn't have a rebuttal. Even when they survived, after it should've been over, she'd never been able to enjoy that victory, at least not fully. She kept up her gun collection, kept the safehouses stocked. Made the tapes for Savannah. She didn't sleep enough, even when Olivia was curled up next to her. And even when she made a real, concerted effort, it didn't always pay off. She'd gone to a fireworks display with Olivia and Savannah last year, barely able to convince herself that the blasts weren't bullets or bombs. Savannah knew all or most of this, and Sarah saw her line of thinking without being able to fault it. The girl thought Sarah was making more of an effort at living, only because she was dying. And as much she wanted to argue the point, there wasn't a thing she could say that would hold up. She settled on this:

"It's still a gift. Every second we have, that I never thought we would. Even though it doesn't feel like that right now. And I need you to do better than I have. I need you to try and be happy." Sarah paused, steeled herself, used the last weapon she had and ignored the guilt she felt for doing it. "You want to help me with this?"

That got Savannah's attention. Blue eyes met green in a mixture of pleading and determination as the redhead gave a wordless but emphatic nod.

Sarah returned the nod, smiled a little. "Stop Googling cancer. There's nothing either of us can do that way. I know this hurts." A pause as Sarah flashed on their argument over her refusal to change time. "I know _I'm_ hurting you. I hate that. But I can't…I can't watch it consume you. I'm not going to be able to take that." She'd already toyed with the notion of sending Savannah back to James if things got too bad, but didn't mention this. Savannah would object, and issuing a perceived threat didn't seem the best way of gaining acceptance. "We're alive, okay? We're still here, we still have a life. It's going to keep going, and I need you to let it. Let yourself have the good parts. That's what we fought for, all of us. And if we don't enjoy them, then what's the point?'

"Okay," Savannah replied after a seeming eternity.

"Okay what?" Sarah prompted.

"Okay let's go to Funworld."

The tone wasn't exactly brimming with enthusiasm, but it wasn't the flat, dead thing that it had been. Savannah was trying. She'd listened. Like she always did. "Okay," Sarah said with a smile, rising from the girl's bed. "We have to pick up Ella first though."

Again, Sarah succeeded in grabbing her attention. "Ella's coming?" Savannah asked, lips curving involuntarily as she got up from her chair.

"She is," Sarah confirmed, enjoying Savannah's first genuine smile in almost a week. "So you two can feed off of each other while Olivia and I try not to drown in all the eye rolls and snotty comments."

Savannah shook her head, moving toward the door before Sarah caught her arm in a loose grip. They weren't okay, not like she wanted them to be. She wasn't sure she had the right to ask for what she desperately wanted in that moment.

Savannah held Sarah's gaze for a long time before stepping into her arms, squeezing tight.

Sarah held her with equal ferocity, soothing a hand down Savannah's back in answer to the lone tremor she felt there. She could've stayed that way indefinitely, despite having already made Savannah wait three years to hit up the amusement park. Olivia's voice broke the spell. From the living room, it beckoned them to hurry up. Reluctantly, but still with a bit more weight taken from her shoulders, Sarah let the embrace end, allowing Savannah to precede her out of the doorway.

* * *

"So," Olivia began as they made their way through the park. "Where to, ladies?"

Next to her, Ella and Savannah exchanged a long glance before breaking into grins and speaking simultaneously. "Rollercoaster."

Olivia took a breath of cool, crisp air, shaking her head in amused exasperation. "Ella."

"What?" her niece asked, too-innocent tone a direct contrast to the look on her face.

"You told her."

"Did you seriously think I wouldn't?"

"What are we talking about?" Sarah asked, walking next to Olivia and addressing all three of them.

"Aunt Liv's terrified of rollercoasters," Ella explained, flush with relish.

Sarah's eyebrows went up, green eyes lighting with intrigue. "Really."

"I am not terrified," Olivia refuted.

"Good," Savannah replied before Sarah could answer. "Then we can go on the ride."

"_You_ can go on the ride," Olivia argued. "I put my time in."

"On one rollercoaster," Ella retorted. "There's six."

Olivia frowned. "Four," she corrected.

"There _were_ four. Last time we were here. Now there's six."

"Wonderful," Olivia drawled, locking gazes with Sarah. "Who's idea was this again?"

"Don't worry Aunt Liv," Ella said. "I can hold your hand. Like I did when I was seven."

"Aren't you sweet. At least you used to be," Olivia replied, tone negating the words. To Sarah, "Well. You got us into this. Want to help me out here?"

Sarah smiled, addressing the girls. "No rollercoasters." Sarah held up a hand as the protests hit her ears, smile becoming a smirk. "Yet," she added. "We'll let her anticipate it for awhile before we drag her on." After expressing their enthusiastic approval of this idea, blonde and redhead ran ahead in search of sustenance, leaving Olivia with a lightened wallet and Sarah with a bemused look on her face. "Interesting how they develop that pack mentality whenever we put them in shouting distance of each other."

"Is two considered a pack? I don't know. Three might be, though."

Ignoring the feigned disgruntlement, Sarah briefly laced hands with Olivia, squeezing the blonde's fingers. "Relax," she teased. "I'll hold your hand."

Repressing an urge to ask if Sarah on a rollercoaster was a good idea, Olivia did her best to follow orders, giving Sarah the same response she'd given Ella a few years ago. "You'd better."

Games came before rides. Olivia presumed this was a way of letting her stew in her distaste for rollercoasters, but didn't argue. They visited a few booths, Savannah coming away with a cheap stuffed bear. Sarah eyed it as the girls walked ahead of them, lips turned in a wry smile. "Boy named Tommy Walker took me to a place like this when we were seventeen. Won me a prize on one of those ring the bell, test your strength machines."

"That's sweet," Olivia commented, sipping from the lemonade she'd acquired a few minutes earlier.

"Seemed that way," Sarah agreed, lowering her voice as they maneuvered around other park guests. "Until I realized that he thought winning me a stuffed toy was fair tradeoff for sex."

Olivia choked on her drink, mortified laughter fighting to leave her throat.

Sarah patted her on the back a few times, waited for her eyes to stop watering and her breathing to even out before responding to the unasked question. "We left the amusement park, drove off somewhere quiet."

"And?"

"And his car was this cheap little piece of crap. Banged my head on the passenger door of his backseat, saw stars, made him take me home. Might've been the first concussion I ever got," Sarah added thoughtfully.

Olivia shook her head as they joined Ella and Savannah at another game booth. This one involved basketball. A bunch of players facing small hoops, going for the winning score. Olivia set her drink aside, handed over more cash, and neither she or Sarah argued when the girls begged for their participation. Olivia ended up between Sarah and Savannah, with her niece on the brunette's other side. The buzzer sounded, the clock started running, and Olivia made her throws, trying not to laugh at Sarah's efforts.

"Unfair height advantage," Sarah stated without taking her eyes from the hoop. She still missed.

"By what?" Savannah scoffed as she made her third shot in a row. "Like an inch?"

"Inch makes a lot of difference," Sarah argued, shooting and missing again.

"So why am I beating you too then?" the redhead asked.

"Yeah," Ella added. "And what about that kid at the end?"

"The one who looks like, eight years old?" Savannah questioned.

"Yeah. That one. Why's he beating you too, Sarah?"

Sarah gave no answer. Olivia could have, but didn't. Sarah had spoken to her about the time before Reese and terminators, before Sarah got obsessed with becoming a model of physical fitness. The time when she was a teenager, going out with boys like Tommy Walker and using her monthly cycle as a weekly excuse to avoid gym class.

After she'd come away with a cheap stuffed tiger and the girls were headed towards their next attraction, Olivia allowed herself to smirk at the look on Sarah's face. "Not so much fun when the pack turns on you, is it?"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Olivia thought about it. "Probably more than I should, definitely not as much as they are."

Sarah made a disgruntled sort of noise and followed the kids, leaving Olivia to catch up.

They played a few more games before pausing at a card table. Three cards laid out next to each other, one of them the queen of hearts. Dealer showed the queen, flipped the card, shuffled the three around with impossible quickness. He'd finished that, and the group was arguing over the location of the winner.

"It's on the right," Sarah stated.

"Left," Savannah corrected. "You blinked because you think that clown over there has been stalking us for the last twenty minutes and it's making you all twitchy."

Sarah ignored that, even though the creepily dressed entertainer _did_ seem to be trailing them. "Olivia?"

"I say left," the blonde answered, a note of apology in her voice.

Sarah scowled, and Ella hesitantly offered up her opinion. "I think Sarah's right."

"Two to two," Olivia mused.

Meanwhile, the man running the booth was growing impatient. "Hey ladies, you want to make a decision here?"

"I don't see a line," Sarah pointed out. "Apparently your charming personality isn't drawing in the crowds."

"Look who's talking."

Sarah's scowl was instantly focused on him, with Olivia adding her own glare. The card dealer slumped his shoulders, appearing to shrink into himself while Ella and Savannah grinned.

"Left," Savannah repeated a few moments later. Off Sarah's skeptical look, "I'll buy the next round of crappy concessions food if it's not."

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "You do understand that if you get the money from me, I still paid even if you dole out the cash."

Savannah made a dismissive hand gesture.

"Left then," Sarah stated. The dealer flipped the card and declared them winners, and Sarah had to swallow her own pride and direct it at Savannah, who was smirking mischievously. Ella didn't know about her illness, and Sarah suspected that that combined with their earlier talk had the redhead overplaying a bit. Still, trying was trying, and Sarah didn't think it was all an act, so she let Savannah tease her as they walked away.

"We could try the bumper cars," she offered. "Bet you'd be good at that."

Olivia and her niece had drifted slightly ahead of them, but Sarah lowered her voice anyway. "Are you implying something about my driving skills?"

The redhead shrugged. "John just says that sometimes during missions and stuff you got distracted and forgot to watch the road. That's all," Savannah replied, monitoring the volume of her own voice.

Sarah made a noise in the back of her throat. "John's twenty-three years old. I told him he had to learn to use a stick-shift eight years ago. Still not sure he's figured it out."

"And Uncle James saying the same thing means…?"

Shaking her head, Sarah adjusted the jacket around Savannah's shoulders, pushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. "What have I told you about listening to everything James says?"

Words aside, they did end up availing themselves of the bumper cars, and Sarah _did_ feel slightly better afterward. Which didn't stop her from declaring her need to shoot something. Unfortunately the shooting gallery was more popular than the card table, and Ella and Savannah wound up standing aside with raised eyebrows while the women shot fake pistols along with a gaggle of six-year-olds.

"So…" Savannah drawled while blonde and brunette fired away. "Should we just stand over here for the next round too, or are you two going to stop at two out of three?"

Olivia shook her head at her own behavior, as well as Sarah's. She knew full-well about the brunette's gun issues, but hadn't realized how long it'd been since she fired her own weapon.

"Okay," Ella declared. "So this is…incredibly embarrassing, and we're going to go wait by the Tilt-A-Whirl now. You guys can meet us there…whenever."

It was Sarah who told them to stay put, without losing any of her concentration. And it was Sarah who eventually won, leaving Olivia in the bizarre position of being nostalgic for the time during and after her kidnapping. When they put the other Olivia's memories in her head, the blonde had also developed some of the woman's skill-sets. She used to be a much better shot before the effects of the brainwashing faded.

After that there were rides, a lot of them. It was getting dark by the time the others made good on their threat to get Olivia on to a coaster. Fierce negotiations with the girls led to an agreement that Olivia would only be forced to suffer through one out of six, the one she'd ridden with Ella during their first visit. Amidst mild griping that that was now the 'wimpiest' one in the park, the blonde got a seat in front with Sarah, Savannah and Ella directly behind them.

"You good?" Sarah asked as they made their way up the track. She had to speak loud over the shouts of the other passengers and the clanking of their car as it approached the first drop.

Gripping the safety bar, Olivia wore a look that was equal parts terror, amusement, and exasperation. "Little late to worry about that now, don't you think?"

Lips curving upward, Sarah covered Olivia's hand, squeezing tightly. Olivia closed her eyes for reasons that had nothing to do with the terror of their first plunge, savoring the contact. Then Sarah told her to open them so she did, because there wasn't much she wouldn't do for the other woman. Behind her, she heard Ella's proclamation that she wasn't going to scream, and then they all were, screaming and dropping and careening faster and faster. The ride forced them to lean this way and that as the wooden coaster shook in their wake. Sarah's hand never left hers.

"Made it," Sarah said afterward when the car had pulled to a stop and the bar keeping them in place was lifting.

"Made it," Olivia affirmed, smiling because Sarah was, and she didn't look sick in that moment. Today had been one of the good ones, and Olivia was determined to soak in every bit of it. They weren't holding on for dear life anymore, but Sarah still had her hand, and Olivia let the moment play out, even as the other passengers started to disembark.

When they finally did leave the car, the girls were waiting for them, both a little unsteady despite their assertions about the tame nature of this ride. Grinning, Ella leaned into her aunt as they made their way down a small flight of stairs that led to solid ground.

"You thought we were goners," she laughed, weaving on her feet a bit as they hit the grass.

"You should talk Miss I'm-not-going-to-scream," Olivia retorted, dropping a kiss in Ella's hair as she put a steadying hand on her elbow. Then her eyes found Sarah and Savannah, who'd gotten a bit ahead of them. The redhead laughed as she leaned into Sarah. Sarah, who'd rejected Olivia's offer of help out of the car because for this moment at least, she wasn't shaky at all. She was teasing Savannah and pulling the girl against her. And Ella was a welcome warmth under Olivia's arm as the four met up on the grass, and for a second, everything was good, when Olivia had started to question if it ever would be again.

* * *

"So did Tommy Walker take you on the Ferris wheel too?" Olivia asked as their carriage made its gentle circuit.

"He did," Sarah confirmed as they slowly gained height. "Then the ride broke and we got stuck up there and he spent an hour gnawing on my neck. I tried to put that prize he won between us, but he wasn't that strong, so the stuffed piece of crap wasn't that big. Took a pound of makeup to hide the hickeys."

Olivia chuckled, enjoying the lights and sounds of the night. The girls were somewhere below, having opted out of what they considered a boring ride so they could search for a fried concoction they hadn't yet tried. "And you still wanted to come here?"

Sarah shrugged. "You said you'd had fun with Ella here. Savannah needed out. And you're not Tommy Walker."

"Thanks for noticing," said Olivia, turning her gaze back to her lover and smiling softly.

"I should be thanking you," Sarah retorted. "I _am_ thanking you."

Olivia shook her head. "What for?"

Sarah shrugged. The list was too long to go through, even though they'd stopped momentarily. The wheel was at the top of its arc, and the people below looked impossibly small. This ride could break too, leave them stranded up here for hours, and Sarah still wouldn't have time to go through all the thank-you's she owed this woman. So she went with the simple, obvious one. "For not telling me to take it easy and rest every five minutes. For trusting me to know my own limits."

Olivia uttered a disbelieving chuckle. "I _don't_," she refuted. "And you don't."

Sarah's eyebrows drifted toward her hairline.

"Know your own limits," the blonde elaborated. "You're the _last_ person to trust when it comes to your limits."

"And yet we're still here."

"Because I trust _myself_ to know your limits." Because she knew Sarah better than the other woman realized. Because she'd do whatever she could to help her through this, including being perceptive enough to keep the brunette from making herself sicker.

Sarah made a non-committal humming sound in the back of her throat, but the corners of her mouth were quirked. "I feel like I should be insulted, but I also feel like kissing you."

Smiling herself, Olivia pushed wild locks out of Sarah's eyes with one hand, caressing her cheek with the other. "Well. I did suffer through that rollercoaster. Don't you think I should get something in return?"

In answer, Sarah cupped the back of Olivia's neck. The thumb of her free hand traced Olivia's lips before covering them with her own.

* * *

"Rachel's really going to love you for that one," Sarah commented from the couch.

Seated at the kitchen table with her laptop and a pile of backlogged case files, Olivia answered without looking away from the monitor. "She doesn't mind when Savannah stays, you know that." Olivia was rather glad the redhead had asked to continue her night with Ella. As Sarah had so bluntly pointed out before, the girl needed out of here, needed to be away from all the stress and sadness.

"Usually she doesn't mind," Sarah agreed. "But they're hopped up on ten pounds of sugar. Be lucky if they're in bed by sun-up. So again, she'll love you for that one."

Olivia tore her eyes from the screen to throw out a retort, mainly that the kids were on a sugar high because of _Sarah's_ plan. No words left her lips, though her tongue did dart out to wet them, an unconscious gesture. Sarah was stretched out on the sofa, one arm hanging limp above her wild mane of raven hair. The other rested on her stomach. Her right leg was crooked slightly, matching the small smirk on her lips. It was a comfortable, easy pose that had Olivia's pulse rate picking up dramatically.

Sarah's smirk widened. "Sorry. Don't let me distract you. I know your schedule's been a mess lately."

Olivia shook that off, not wanting to think about all the chemo sessions and doctor visits she'd accompanied Sarah to lately. The blonde was wearing the black-framed reading glasses she sometimes fell back on when there was too much research or too many reports to wade through. She adjusted them now, mostly to give her hands something to do. Because Sarah wasn't sorry at all. Like usual, she knew precisely what she was doing, the effect she was having.

Green eyes sparkled as they traveled the length of Olivia's body, enjoying the view of long, toned legs. The blonde had changed into shorts and the Northwestern tee that she'd started the day in before changing for their outing. Sarah focused less on the name of her girlfriend's alma mater and more on the fact that the woman wasn't wearing a bra.

Olivia felt Sarah's gaze, burning her in a good way. First her legs, then up to her stomach, which tightened in a not-unpleasant manner. Then she felt her nipples grow taut under her shirt and actually had to make an effort at breathing. Sarah didn't look sick, hadn't all day. They hadn't touched each other in weeks. And Olivia had gotten so good at compartmentalizing, locking away the bad, that she could almost make herself forget why. "You…" Her voice came out rough, lower than she'd meant, and Olivia cleared her throat and tried again. "You must be tired."

A frown replaced the teasing smirk, but only briefly. "You were so good about not doing that at the park. Don't want to break your streak, do you?"

At this point Olivia had no idea what she wanted. All she knew was that everything had been tight and tense and sad for over a month, and she'd barely been able to breathe. Just as she could barely manage it now, with Sarah following her every move as she got up from the table.

Sarah's head rested on the arm of the couch and Olivia stopped there, running gentle fingers through messy hair. "Sorry to disappoint." She was almost certain that that was all she'd meant to say or do, would've pulled her hand back if Sarah hadn't reached up to still it.

Shaking her head, the brunette dismissed the apology, ghosting a kiss against the soft skin of Olivia's wrist. "Sorry to distract," she retorted.

The fact that Sarah hadn't returned her the use of her hand would've negated the words, if her tone wasn't doing that already. Before she could think better of it, Olivia was tucking her hair behind her ear, leaning down until her lips found Sarah's. It was an upside down kiss, slightly awkward without being uncomfortable. And if there _had_ been discomfort, Olivia would've powered through it without complaint. One hand cupped Sarah's cheek while the other remained entangled with the brunette's. Sarah used her thumb to draw mindless patterns on Olivia's fingers while her tongue traced the blonde's lips in a silent request. Olivia opened her mouth to Sarah's questing tongue, releasing a sigh that was quickly swallowed by the other woman. Olivia leaned in further, intending to deepen the kiss, then broke it when her glasses slid down her nose and almost onto Sarah's.

Chuckling, the brunette released Olivia's hand so she could remove the glasses instead. "Very nice," she praised. "Even though you did steal that from a movie."

Olivia laughed herself, shaking her head. Watching a thirteen year-old superhero film had been Savannah's choice, not hers. If she happened to remember the kiss scene from _Spider_-_man_, that was just a byproduct of how her mind worked.

"You do realize that the annoying redhead who screamed too much actually pulled the mask up a bit before she made the move?" Sarah teased, still holding Olivia's glasses.

"Shut up," Olivia replied in a less-than successful attempt at witty banter, watching Sarah lean over to place her glasses on the coffee table. There was an exaggerated amount of care in the act, time taken to set them aside carefully, though Olivia couldn't have cared less at this point if the things were to get destroyed. Sarah's caution slowed what was happening between them while simultaneously turning Olivia on even more. But the break gave her a second to think, reevaluate. "Is this…do you want…?"

Resuming her previous position, Sarah reached up, cupping Olivia's neck and pulling her back down. When Olivia complied, Sarah kissed her again, free hand finding Olivia's left breast. "Yeah," she whispered huskily, pulling back enough to refill her lungs. "I want."

Olivia hissed in pleasure as Sarah tweaked her nipple. Her heart hammered under the brunette's palm, so fast and hard she was sure Sarah must be able to feel it. Despite that, despite her ability to compartmentalize and despite how charged she was, Olivia couldn't suppress a feeling of guilt for letting herself get that way. "You sure?" Olivia pressed. She punctuated the words with a quicker, gentler kiss, knowing she was treading thin ice.

Sarah's only indication of frustration with Olivia's protectiveness was a careful nip to the blonde's lower lip. "If I'm ever not sure about _that_, then I really will be dead," she teased.

The playful words brought a shot of pain through Olivia's system at the same time that Sarah's teeth on her flesh deepened her arousal. "Forget about that." It was half plea, half order. Olivia's tongue dueled with Sarah's, as if keeping the other woman busy could keep her silent, keep her from saying things Olivia couldn't hear now.

Sarah let her do this for long moments before brushing her thumb over Olivia's earlobe. The blonde shivered and broke away as Sarah knew she would. Olivia was unusually sensitive there and Sarah took advantage of that knowledge while her other hand alternated between Olivia's breasts. "Make me forget then."

It was said easily enough, but Olivia heard the undertones, even as Sarah worked to drive her past the point of rational thought. Woman with a mission indeed. The most urgent part of that mission seemed to be ditching the Northwestern shirt, so Olivia helped with that. In what remained of her rational mind, Olivia thought of Sarah saying the same thing this morning, that she needed to forget. Then she thought about that first night at the bar, how they'd both been trying to escape. She from her memories of Peter, Sarah from those of the machine. Their journey to the bliss of forgetting had started with booze, gone to conversation, then gone to sex that'd quickly become more than that. Olivia thought of how they might be reaching some incredibly painful, full circle thing, and then Sarah's mouth was on her nipple and she couldn't think anymore.

Olivia leaned farther over the arm of the couch, barely feeling the protest of her back. Unlike her, Sarah hadn't switched to casualwear yet, she still wore the jeans from the amusement park. While Sarah's tongue circled against her right breast, Olivia reached down to circle her palm over Sarah's center. She was gripping the couch with her free hand to keep herself steady, but it almost wasn't enough when she reached her destination. Worried as she was about Sarah's weight loss, maybe it wasn't as bad as Olivia had feared. The dark blue denim still fit tightly enough that she could feel warmth against her fingers. She bit her lip to keep from moaning. Then Sarah released her nipple with a soft popping noise. When the brunette blew cold air against the deliciously-sensitized flesh, Olivia gave up and released a groan of pleasure.

"Can you stay like that much longer?" Sarah asked, massaging the valley between Olivia's breasts.

Olivia considered it. Her nails were clawing desperately into the leather sofa they'd had reupholstered last year. She exercised religiously, but her legs were twitching, burning like the rest of her. Far from bad, but not conducive to her continued ability to stand. "No," she admitted, somewhat breathlessly.

Sarah kissed the area she'd been rubbing, smirking against Olivia's skin before pulling back a little. "Good. Much as I like you from this angle," her tongue darted out against Olivia's left nipple, as if to make the point, "we do have a bed, not too far away. And I do _like_ our bed."

So did Olivia, though she found that the journey to the bedroom seemed longer than it was. They marked their passage with a trail of hastily shed clothing, an indulgence they couldn't enjoy when Savannah was here. Olivia played navigator, guiding Sarah to their room while the brunette rubbed her neck and back, easing the tension that had started to build from leaning over her for too long.

They were naked by the time they hit the bed, though Olivia had suffered an unusual amount of trouble with Sarah's bra. She was preoccupied with the woman's neck, was still kissing and licking the flesh there when she crawled on top of the mattress, and Sarah. She was careful about taking her weight, careful about cradling Sarah's head when it hit the pillow, but she kept up her ministrations to Sarah's neck, sucking at the pulse point there while Sarah gasped and jerked beneath her. She wasn't looking to leave a mark like the unfortunate Tommy Walker, wasn't certain that Sarah owned any turtlenecks to hide the evidence from Savannah. Olivia wasn't interested in marks. Her fixation lay in the fact that Sarah's lifeblood was racing through that pulse point, hard and fast and…_there_, proving that Sarah was there too. Still alive, still breathing. They were ragged breaths, but not the thin, rattling kind that had come from her mother near the end, right before they _stopped_ coming. Mentally cursing, Olivia banished those thoughts, turning her attention elsewhere.

Her hands found both of Sarah's nipples, returning the attention the brunette had given to her. Meanwhile, her eyes raked over Sarah's body, carefully disguising what they saw. No matter how snug those jeans were, Sarah was too thin, and the blonde wondered briefly if her lover had gone shopping while she was at work. She didn't have much opportunity to worry about that though, because Sarah's eyes were on her. They were half-closed because of what Olivia was doing to her breasts, but they were there, watching the blonde intently, cataloguing every reaction.

Olivia felt the scrutiny, moving down the bed until she was between Sarah's legs. She went about blazing a trail, kissing the calf of Sarah's right leg. She went up slowly, methodically. Her lips found the back of Sarah's leg, the knee. Thigh came next, then inner thigh. Then Olivia switched to the other leg, licking the places she'd missed on her first trip. She made eye contact throughout all this, was very careful about that. Sarah didn't say it, but Olivia saw the way the brunette looked at herself in the mornings, saw the disappointment and disgust. Sarah expected to see it in Olivia's eyes too, the blonde knew that. It wasn't there, it never would be, but Olivia was still careful about her face, about what she showed the other woman. Revulsion wouldn't be a problem, but sadness would. The kind of deep, overwhelming sadness that could kill this in an instant.

When she'd finished with the other leg, Olivia abandoned Sarah's breasts for the time being. That freed up her hands, allowing them to drift lower, find the brunette's hips. Olivia stroked her thumbs in circles there, being even more careful about her expression. She'd thought the bruises were gone for now, but there was a tiny one forming on Sarah's left hip. Blinking hard, Olivia kissed the darkened skin, looking up quickly as Sarah gasped and shook under her. "Hurt?" she asked, guilt and panic flooding her system.

Sarah's hands found Olivia's hair, pushing some of it aside. She opened her mouth as if to answer, closed it, then tried again. "Yeah and no," she said, voice low and raw. The look on Olivia's face forced Sarah to act, to preempt what was coming. Smoothing a hand over the blonde's scalp, Sarah held on, tightening her grip just a fraction. The other hand found Olivia's lips, two fingers pressing there to silence any apologies. "You're good. You're perfect," she amended quickly. "Just…"

She didn't finish the sentence, but she kept holding and massaging Olivia's scalp, so the blonde took her cue from that. She kissed Sarah's stomach, not quite touching another small bruise that was forming there. These must've come just last night. She left a hand on the uninjured hip, rubbing at Sarah's inner thigh with the other. She stayed at Sarah's stomach for a second, dropping more kisses and circling Sarah's bellybutton with her tongue. The brunette moaned in approval, and much as that pleased Olivia, she couldn't pretend her actions were entirely selfless. She needed a minute. Just a minute to steady herself. Everything burned and ached, in more ways than one. And as much as she'd yearned for this, it scared her now, for reasons she couldn't quite grasp. Instead she gently gripped Sarah's hip before pushing her tongue against the brunette's center.

Sarah gasped and whimpered, pushed Olivia closer. The blonde ran her tongue up and down, everywhere, probing familiar territory while her nose and mouth were treated to the results of her ministrations. The scent and the taste were heady, brought her to a place that she never got used to. She lost herself in it for a time in Sarah's hands tightening in her hair as the brunette vocalized her enjoyment. And then Sarah's hips started to jerk, and Olivia needed a bit of control. And that made her think of Sarah's hip and stomach, how she couldn't touch those places because of the bruises.

"Look at me."

Lost as she was in the obscene combination of arousal and despair, Olivia heard the request, complying instantly. But she did it too fast, forgetting to steel her features, and as soon as her eyes found Sarah's, Olivia knew she'd given up the game.

"C'mere," Sarah whispered hoarsely, pulling at the other woman's shoulders. Olivia started to protest and Sarah repeated herself, kissing the blonde silent as soon as she got close enough. "Just stay here," Sarah said, licking her lips as she tasted herself on the other woman. "Just stay. I want you here."

Sarah was holding her and kissing her and Olivia still felt like a failure. Then Sarah's knee was rocking against her and all she could feel was that. Her wetness spilled against Sarah's thigh, and when Sarah's hand went between her legs, Olivia fairly gushed. Sarah was kissing her and holding her, and her hand worked at Olivia's clit as if she were playing an instrument.

Olivia moaned, threw herself into the contact with reckless abandon. She hadn't known how keyed up she was, how little it would take to undo her. It was all happening with impossible quickness, though some part of her realized it'd been building for weeks. And then she realized how close she was, and with that realization came an understanding of why she'd been vaguely terrified ever since they made it to the bedroom. She'd kissed her first boyfriend at thirteen. She'd liked him, cared as much as anyone cared for each other at that age. The kiss came three months after her mother's diagnosis, a few days after the doctors declared it terminal. She'd liked the boy she'd kissed, and the act itself hadn't been that bad either. She'd still burst into tears in the middle of it, probably leaving the poor kid with a long-lasting inadequacy complex. She'd liked him, but that wasn't what led to the kiss. She'd done it to forget, to feel something good. And then when she had, the dam had broken and everything bad had come through full-force. And here she was, trying to forget again. They both were, but that wasn't really the point.

"Stop," Olivia whispered, stilling Sarah's wrist with a shaking hand. "You…I need you to stop. I can't…" She couldn't get the words out. Nor was she very successful at getting her body to stop shaking.

Sarah complied, deep frown lines cutting into her features. She had difficulty remembering the last time Olivia had asked her to stop doing _anything_ in a situation like this. "What's wrong?"

Olivia shook her head, still holding Sarah's wrist, ignoring the instinct to press herself against the other woman. She couldn't talk past the lump in her throat. It was like an exposed nerve, an open wound. She'd done this to make it better for both of them. And it was. The same way it was heightening everything, making it all so much worse.

"Liv. Hey. Talk to me."

The name made it worse too. The softness of Sarah's voice, the gentle kisses she was dropping wherever she could. All of it made Olivia want to cry. She didn't. Couldn't. Just as she couldn't let herself go, desperately as she needed that. The kiss would happen all over again, the overload. Only this time it would be a thousand times worse and she'd end up sobbing and shaking and begging Sarah not to leave her. Something like that. Olivia wasn't entirely sure what would happen, but she knew she wouldn't be able to control it, because she hadn't when she was thirteen, and she certainly couldn't now. Not with Sarah.

Olivia brought Sarah's fingers to her lips, sucking them clean and tasting herself there. She gave herself that much, and she also bought herself time to pull it together a little. "Not now," she whispered, tongue lingering on the pad of Sarah's pinky. "Not yet. I…it needs to be you first."

Sarah protested, but Olivia's activities made that extraordinarily difficult. "Liv-"

Olivia released Sarah's hand to claim her lips. She made the kisses small, because that was all she could manage. She was breathing the same air as Sarah, but there wasn't enough of it. "You first. Please. I just…I need you first."

Sarah's breath caught. She'd said much the same thing to Olivia on that first night, after they left the bar. The rawness of that was combining with the rawness of this, and Olivia was touching her with so much gentle urgency, and Sarah could barely form a coherent thought. "I want you."

The shortage of air became a total lack of it, for a second at least. Olivia knew the effect her words would have, the memories that would be invoked. And Sarah had the same knowledge. Her response had been Olivia's, back at her old apartment. "I know," she said, altering the script a little. "I'm here. I'm _always_ here. I just need…"

Sarah shook her head at the desperation there, unsure how to deal with it except to give in, the same way Olivia had given in to her years ago. But she couldn't do that without at least some resistance, because resistance had more or less defined her life since the age of nineteen. "And you?"

Olivia smiled, infusing her voice with false lightness as she kissed Sarah again. "Shouldn't be a problem," she lied. "Unless you're planning on leaving right away."

Sarah opened her mouth, probably to protest again. Olivia cut that short with a final kiss and a pair of fingers on her clit. She watched Sarah's face contort in ecstasy, but that didn't erase the hurt, worry and confusion, not totally. Olivia felt like a failure again, even as she replaced fingers with thumb.

Sarah lost any fight she had left when Olivia's fingers slipped inside. She was tightening and releasing and biting her lip to keep the sounds in, and those things were taking all of her attention.

Olivia made herself be slow, because that's what she'd intended to begin with. She hadn't wanted the entry to be that quick, but her desire for tenderness had temporarily been defeated by her desire to get the bad look off of Sarah's face. She watched the brunette now, moved two fingers inside, still wished she'd been stronger, able to hold off. "Too much?" she asked, slowing her movement to almost nothing.

"No," Sarah said from behind clenched teeth, though in a different sense, she thought it actually was. "No."

Olivia had known already, but needed the reassurance. Still needed it, apparently. She curled her fingers until she found the place she wanted, the place Sarah wanted. She knew when she found it. Impossible not to with Sarah crying out, releasing a mixture of endearments and curses as she tightened against Olivia's fingers. Olivia knew she had it, knew she had _Sarah_, but somehow she still needed to. "Good?"

Sarah made herself draw in enough air for a response, but it wasn't easy. "All kinds of good," she managed. Even though it wasn't, nor completely. Not with Olivia holding something back from her in literally the most intimate of situations. But she couldn't fix that yet, so she lost the fight with control and let the blonde hold her while she came. And she whispered endearments and heard them returned, and pretended not to notice the tear that hit her shoulder when Olivia pulled her close.

* * *

"Comfortable?" Olivia teased, combing her fingers through messy hair.

Sarah was half on top of her, the two of them tangled up so thoroughly that the brunette was barely aware of what belonged to whom. She'd fallen into a pleasant lethargy that she was just barely returning from. In the interim, Olivia's chest had become her pillow. "Very," she murmured. Then she turned her head a bit, sucking the blonde's left nipple into her mouth. "You?" she asked, smiling as the nipple hardened against her tongue.

Olivia sucked in a harsh breath, fighting to keep her hand from tightening in Sarah's hair. "Thought I might've worn you out at least a little bit," she said in a falsely wounded tone.

"You did a lot of things," Sarah confirmed, switching to the other breast. "Great things. Got my second wind, like to return the favor."

Olivia shifted, trying to ease the fire that Sarah was so determined to stoke. She couldn't do this. She _needed_ it, but it would bring her apart in too many ways, and she couldn't leave Sarah to pick up the pieces when the physical crash inevitably brought the emotional one. "You don't have to do this,"

Sarah stopped what she was doing, lip catching tenderly against the underside of Olivia's breast. She looked at the blonde with desire, puzzlement, and a bit of hurt. "I never _had_ to," she said carefully. "That was never part of it. Do you not want me to?"

God. At the same time she said it, Sarah's hand was sinking lower under the blanket, finding the truth between Olivia's legs. She wasn't acting on it, wasn't moving the hand, but Olivia still bit back a curse. She couldn't lie again, even if she wanted to. Then her cellphone rang, rendering the point temporarily moot. She'd forgotten it on the nightstand after she changed clothes, and she reached for it now, feeling a little sick because the hurt on Sarah's face was becoming more prominent. "Could be Savannah," she said, trying and failing at easing her guilt. "Peter," she said after checking the screen. She didn't ask about taking the call or attempt further justifications, because she couldn't quite meet Sarah's eyes, even if she had the excuses to make. She answered the phone instead, simultaneously relieved and disheartened when Sarah eased away from her. "Peter hey. What's up?"

The false levity in her tone wasn't part of his. "We need to talk," he said with an unusual level of seriousness, skipping over the most basic of pleasantries.

Olivia sat up, instinctively putting a bit more space between herself and her lover, which only piqued Sarah's interest. "About what?" Olivia questioned, pretending she didn't know, that she didn't feel green eyes cutting into her back.

"Sarah. The test results you've been forwarding, the blood analysis."

She'd been sending everything to Walter and Peter, to Nina's people at Massive Dynamic, hoping against hope that it would make a difference. "You found something?" she asked, clutching the phone harder as her gut knotted in on itself.

Peter didn't answer immediately. When he did, it was preceded by a barely audible sigh. "We…we need to talk," he repeated. "In person."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the wait, but I did give fair warning. This is the chapter where I play with something mentioned in season 4 of Fringe (despite season 4 not happening in my little pocket universe), and give it my own spin. I'm also attempting to deal with actual procedures here, but my info on that stuff is all Google and Wikipedia based, so any med students in the audience, no throwing tomatoes. Its fiction and all that.

On a more funner note, there's also something more funner on my profile. Wheresmyluce was cool enough to do a fanvid for this fic, which I must say is amazingly awesome considering how much of a nightmare it must've been to make. The only problem I have is that it makes the story look better than it is, and therefore puts me in a rough spot. But check it out anyway because it's total greatness, and please, jump on the board if you have a minute so that I don't flunk anything, lol.

Oh, and as if I wasn't asking for enough, please drop a review on your way out, and thanks as always to those who did last time. You guys rule, catch you during the next update.

* * *

It shouldn't have surprised her, Walter retaking the lab. It'd always been where he'd done his best work, and being one of the richest men on the planet meant that getting his old space back couldn't have been much of a problem. If anything, Olivia was surprised it had taken him this long to reclaim what he'd always consider as his.

It was just past midnight when they entered, and for a moment the terror Olivia fought to suppress was replaced by an overwhelming wave of déjà vu. She'd been here weeks ago with Peter, but the place had been a dead zone then, a reminder of a time in her life that didn't exist anymore. Now the dust and the tarps were gone, and the lights shone down on equipment that was actually being used. There were takeout boxes scattered over one of the tables, and when Olivia's eyes found the place where the cow used to be, she had to do a double-take.

"It's not Gene," Peter stated, answering her question before she could voice it. "Gene's enjoying a very happy existence on a dairy farm in Ohio. Walter made me take him there last year. It was either that or Disneyworld."

"You got a new cow," Sarah drawled with the same look of bemused exasperation she used to wear every time she came in here. "Great."

Peter, who'd obviously missed more than a few shaves, shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand through hair that was starting to stick up in odd directions. "I know. Believe me. It helps his thinking process to recreate things like he remembers them. Hence, Albert."

"Albert?" Sarah repeated.

"Einstein," Peter clarified. "Seven years and he still can't get Astrid's name right, and now he's confusing her with the cow. You can imagine how much she loves that."

Olivia, who'd been doing a visual search for Walter and really couldn't have cared less about the small talk up to that point, found Peter's eyes after that last remark. "Astrid's been working with you?"

Peter offered a nod. "She helps his thinking process too. Helps keep me from strangling him. She just took off an hour ago, grabbed us dinner first," he added, gesturing toward the takeout remnants.

For another half second, Olivia forgot her fear, confusion replacing it this time. "That's not her job anymore. I know they're working her ragged at headquarters. Did Walter-"

"No," Peter said quickly. "He didn't ask. He just didn't say no when she offered to moonlight."

They didn't see enough of each other, but they still worked in the same building, still kept in touch. "She didn't tell me," Olivia stated, feelings of warmth and guilt clashing against each other.

Peter shrugged again, a wry smile pulling at his lips. "If she wanted gratitude, would she be working with a man who constantly mistakes her for a farm animal?"

Fair point. There _was _gratitude though, and Olivia vowed to express it later. For now, her mind had returned to only one thing. "Where's Walter? What did you find?"

The sad smile gave way to an expression Olivia couldn't read. His tone didn't help either. It was too careful, too controlled. "Come here," Peter said, leading them deeper into the lab.

He stopped at one of the worktables. It was covered in printouts that might as well have been written in Greek. Peter's eyes were rimmed with red and he closed them and rubbed at his temple before translating. "Your doctor would've waited until Monday to tell you this," he said cautiously, eyes darting between Sarah and the papers. "Your white cell counts, they're…"

"Bad," Sarah finished, putting him out of his misery and carefully monitoring her own voice and expression. "I assume that's the word you're looking for?"

"Bad," Peter nodded. "They're not as bad as they could be, but they've gotten worse. Doctor's probably going to tell you to finish out your last chemo treatments, but…they're not working like we'd hoped."

Sarah shook her head, acutely conscious of the blonde standing next to her. "We weren't expecting much to begin with though, were we?" she asked, as if lack of expectations made anything better.

Olivia shook her head as well, but for a different reason. "She was feeling better. You were feeling better." She was talking too fast; there was too much emotion in her voice. Olivia couldn't help any of it. She gripped the edge of the table to keep herself up, lowered her head and closed her eyes to keep the tears in check.

Biting at her lower lip, Sarah shot a quick glance at Peter before covering Olivia's hand with hers. 'It's okay," she murmured. Then, to Peter. "Might've been better if you let the doctor wait until Monday."

Olivia's head shot up. Blinking away the burning in her eyes, she studied Sarah intently. Something about that tone was threatening to set her off. It was the same one Olivia heard at the hospital, when they first found out about the cancer. Peter's late-night summons kept this from being a total surprise but still. There was a level of resignation in Sarah's voice that might've pushed Olivia over the edge if Walter hadn't made his appearance.

"Have you told them yet?" he asked, sounding disgustingly excited as he stumbled in from a back area of the lab that used to house his Grateful Dead records. Instead of those, he carried a stack of papers and photos, several of which hit the ground in his haste to get to them.

"Walter," Peter began, a warning in his voice. "Don't-"

The warning apparently was not clear enough. "My dear," he said, stopping in front of Sarah and dumping his burden on the table containing her test results. "You're dying!"

Sarah released her lover's hand, eyebrows inching toward her hairline. The elder Bishop made that pronouncement in a tone that suggested she'd just won the lottery. "A little late on that one Walter, but thanks for the update." To Peter, "So what kinds of drugs is he on today?"

It was Walter who answered, preempting his son. "A lovely little concoction Belly and I discovered during one of my birthday celebrations but that's hardly relevant. What's important is that you're dying."

"Walter," Olivia snapped in a voice that was very unlike hers. Her tolerance for Walter's antics was much higher than Sarah's, but she could've strangled him in that moment. Easily.

The desperation there seemed to bring Walter back to Earth, at least to a point. The grin he'd been wearing disappeared, and his tone changed slightly as he rushed out a clarification. "Oh no," he said, eyes cutting between Sarah and Olivia several times before landing on the former. "You're dying, but I can save you."

"Walter," Peter admonished sharply.

Olivia barely heard him. "What are you talking about?" she demanded, trying to keep the hope down so that it wouldn't be crushed, wouldn't crush _her _in the process.

"What I am talking about," said Walter, rummaging in his stack of materials, "is this," he finished triumphantly, holding up a photo for their inspection.

"A dead monkey," Sarah stated after a moment. "Of course it's a dead monkey."

"A chimp to be more precise," said Walter, completely misreading her tone as his excitement level rose again. "Poor little Abu gave his life in the service of science. As did his brothers and sisters," Walter added, picking out more photographs. "But his _cousins_," the older Bishop continued, producing several more pictures of non-deceased primates. "Just look at his _cousin_s!"

Sarah did, nodding slowly until she heard a noise from somewhere nearby. A screeching sound that would make more sense if she was out on safari somewhere. "I see. Is that what you were doing just now, feeding the monkeys you haven't killed yet?"

"Yes in fact, I was giving them a midnight snack. But _I _never killed those others, and now the ones back there won't die either. That's the point! Isn't it wonderful?"

"Wonderful," Sarah agreed. Then, to Olivia. "It's a zoo. I used to say it was a circus you worked in but I was wrong. Definitely a zoo."

"They had cancer and now they don't," Peter explained before his father could speak again. "We've been working with some of Walternate's people on the other side. There's a drug. It's experimental but so far-"

"You're saying you found a cure?" Olivia interrupted, unable to reconcile this information with the solemn manner in which Peter was giving it.

"We _may _have found a solution," Peter corrected. "This drug, it's not a cure, but it boosts the immune system, more than anything we have Over Here."

"It's quite extraordinarily really," Walter cut in. "The test subjects' responses to it are simply amazing."

"Are they?" Sarah asked. "And has anyone accounted for the fact that I'm not a chimp?"

"Of course you're not," Walter agreed. "Only ninety-nine percent of one. The mapping of the human genome has shown us that the genetic differences between us and Abu are extremely minimal," he said, indicating one of the pictures.

"Terrific. The dead monkey and I are almost the same." Sarah found Olivia's eyes, saw the hope building there. "Boosted immune system you said. Not cancer-free. So what else aren't you saying?" she asked, directing the question to Peter.

"The drug on its own won't do the job." Peter paused, holding Sarah's gaze for a long moment. "The doctors talked to you about what it would take to do a bone marrow transplant."

It wasn't a question, but Sarah nodded anyway. "New marrow jumpstarts the system, fights off the cancer. Wasn't an option though."

"Because you'd need high doses of chemo to wipe out the old marrow first, allow the new stuff to work," Peter continued.

"And I'd also be wiping my immune system down to nothing," Sarah finished. To be saved, she'd have to be weakened beyond belief, with no guarantee that her body would accept the foreign substance. While she waited to see if it would, she'd be vulnerable to an endless list of infections and complications. "Cancer's too advanced, that's what they said. I wouldn't be strong enough to take the procedure. It would kill me before the cancer did."

Olivia shuddered, tried to hide it, tried to follow this discussion to where she thought it was going while understanding why Peter was still being this wary. "But the drug would change that," she said, half-statement, half-question. "That's what you're getting at, right? She takes this drug, she can take getting the procedure."

"Precisely!" Walter exclaimed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Ease up, Walter," Peter said, finding Olivia's gaze. "It's more complicated than that. The drug's experimental and it's…it's a derivative of something else, something we developed Over Here."

Walter's face fell a little. Suddenly he couldn't quite meet Olivia's eyes, and just like that she understood why. "It's not 'we,' is it? It's you, Walter." A pause while Olivia absorbed the truth of her own words. "Cortexiphan," she said, voice quiet and slow with the weight of understanding. "The stores at Massive Dynamic." She'd known of them for years, fought endlessly with Walter and Peter over their continued existence. "You took Cortexiphan and you mixed it with something from the other side."

When Walter tried to speak this time, his son didn't interrupt. "That's right," he said, sounding almost apologetic. "Belly and I always spoke of the potential healing properties of Cortexiphan. I simply waited too long to explore the matter further. I've been trying to change that. You _know _that, Olivia."

He sounded as desperate as she felt, and in the face of that, all Olivia could manage was a stiff nod. Despite the abilities Cortexiphan had bestowed upon her, despite the fact that they'd assisted her in saving the world, she'd never fully subscribed to the notion that keeping the drug around was a good thing. The uneasy impasse she and Walter had reached on the matter had been relegated to a back corner of her mind. Until now.

"Cortexiphan," said Sarah, making no attempt to hide her disbelief. "This would be the same stuff you dosed Olivia with, right? When she was in _daycare_?"

"Well yes," Walter stuttered. "But-"

"The stuff that seemed to be responsible for half of the messes you investigated?"

"Yes, but you see-"

"The woman who burned herself alive? The guy who could make people kill themselves based on his moods? You're talking about saving me with the same drug that created those people?"

"Sarah," Olivia said, more sharply than she'd meant to. "Just let him talk." The brunette looked at her as if she'd gone mad, and Olivia couldn't say she blamed her. "Let him talk," she repeated in spite of herself.

"This would be completely unlike the Jacksonville trials," Walter stated. "The goals and methodology would be entirely-"

"As opposed to the original goals and methodology?" Sarah pressed. Ignoring Olivia's demand. "Pump drugs into some kids and see what happens, hope they have whatever qualities you and Bell were looking for? This stuff is supposed to affect each person differently, right?" she asked, drawing on prior discussions from years past. "So how can you possibly know what it'll do to me this time?"

"It's in a different form," Peter said, attempting to save his father from Sarah's verbal assault. "They're not comparable."

"And you know this because of a few animal trials? Who's to say I don't end up like one of your dead monkeys?"

"Animal trials here, human trials Over There," Peter retorted. "It's a small sample group but it's something."

That caught Olivia off-guard. "You can't have progressed to human trials that fast."

Running a hand through his hair, Peter shot a quick look at Walter. "Walternate is one of the most powerful, well-respected men in that world. He's also a scientist. He wanted human trials, he got them."

"And you think people would've agreed to that if they knew what they were signing up for?" Sarah pressed.

"They signed up for a clinical trial of an experimental drug, happens all the time, no matter what universe you're talking about. Polio, diphtheria, malaria. Doctors came up for treatments of these things, they couldn't predict all the possible effects. There's always a risk in that kind of science. And yes, that included the Cortexiphan trials thirty years ago, it includes the ones that are happening now. But this _isn't _like what happened in Jacksonville. The goals _are _different, the monitoring _will _be different."

"Maybe," Sarah conceded. "But whatever monitoring you're doing can't have gone on very long. There's no way you can have any sort of perspective on this."

Peter shook his head, giving Olivia an apologetic look before addressing Sarah again. "The people in that trial don't have _time _for twenty-twenty perspective. They're dying. Fast. Whatever uncertainties come with the Cortexiphan, _that's _the one thing that isn't changing. They're dying. And so are you. And with your cell counts the way they are…we don't have time to wait on reams of results analysis."

Olivia couldn't breathe. For several long moments she had to grip the table again to stay upright. She made herself find Sarah's eyes but the brunette was looking away from her. Olivia couldn't decide if that was good or bad. She forced herself to take in air, waited for the lump in her throat to shrink down to something manageable. She should ask for dates, but she couldn't. It'd been six months a month ago. Now, from the way Peter was talking, five seemed a generous estimate. "Assume it works," Olivia said. There was a quiver in her voice and she cleared her throat before continuing. "Assume it works," she repeated, somewhat more steadily. "If the drug makes her strong enough to have the procedure, then what?"

"Then we'd take healthy marrow from someone else, give it to her." A pause. "People who are genetically close to the recipient…those usually give the best chances of the marrow not being rejected."

"Genetically close," Sarah repeated. "Relatives."

"Relatives," Peter agreed.

"So. John."

"We'd have to have him tested first, but statistically-"

"No," Sarah cut in before he could finish.

"Sarah," Olivia began.

"I'm not risking him like that. It's not happening."

"But you _won't _be risking him," Walter interrupted. "The probability of potentially fatal complication for _you _during the procedure is fairly high, but for the donor-"

"Walter! Stop helping. I'm begging you, just stop helping."

"Well you don't need to shout, son. Really," Walter replied, sounding more than slightly affronted.

"Uh-huh," Peter mumbled, rubbing at his temple again. A vein that wasn't usually visible there was becoming more prominent. "John will be fine," he said after a few seconds. "It's nothing. General anesthetic, the marrow comes from his hipbone, not nearly enough to cause him problems. Regenerates it in a few weeks, only feels sore for a few days, that's it."

"It really is a simple, relatively painless procedure," Walter confirmed. "I haven't experienced it myself of course, but back in the institution, they'd sometimes give us rectal shots, and I'm absolutely positive that compared to that-"

"Walter! Stop talking. Just stop. They're going through enough without you putting those images in their heads. Or mine for that matter." Peter breathed deeply for several seconds before addressing the women. "It's your call. Obviously. But the sooner we move on this, the better. The doctors we've been working with on the other side, they'd like a meeting. Just a consultation," Peter added, seeing the look on Sarah's face. "Whatever questions you have, they'd be answered. You could see the results of the trial so far. Doesn't need to lead anywhere, but at least you'd be making an informed decision."

"A meeting. Over There." All this time, Sarah had never made the trip. It was Olivia who had access to the Bridge, Olivia who could cross without it if the circumstances were right. And Sarah had had enough craziness to deal with in this universe without adding in another.

"I've been there several times myself," Walter said hesitantly. "Consultations you know. It's really quite fascinating and the food-"

Sarah held up a hand. "Save it," she said wearily. "I threw up four times last week." Sarah felt Olivia's eyes on her, released a sigh without meeting them. "When?"

Peter shrugged, but his lips curved in an infinitesimal smile. "Broyles would have to coordinate with Walternate, but they're already on standby. Could get it approved by morning."

"Savannah," Sarah began, finally catching Olivia's gaze.

"I can call Rachel early tomorrow," Olivia said quickly. "She won't mind. And you're the one who said the girls would be up all night. She'll thank us for letting her sleep in."

Sarah sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine," she said quietly. "Do what you need to do."

Olivia wanted to thank her, but doubted Sarah's receptiveness. All she risked was a brief squeeze of the brunette's arm. She was pulling her hand away when Walter next spoke.

"Sarah," he said in a voice that was soft and regretful and somehow devoid of the effects of whatever drugs he'd taken tonight. "I know what I did to those children. To Olivia," he added sad eyes landing briefly on the blonde. "I'll never be able to change what happened, what the Cortexiphan did to her and the others. But if some good can still come out of it, then maybe…"

He trailed off, looking frustrated by his inability to complete the sentence. Without wanting to, Sarah felt herself softening towards him. Because at the end of the day, despite his endless eccentricities and copious amounts of drug use, she'd always felt a certain kinship with him. Results aside, most of what he'd done over the years had stemmed from a desperate need to hold on to his son, and if there was anything Sarah understood, it was that. She'd probably never forgive him for what he'd put Olivia through, but she also couldn't forget that his seemingly absurd brand of genius had saved the blonde's life on countless occasions. "I get it, Walter," she said finally, thinking it was the best she could manage before adding in the last part. "Thank you."

Walter stood up a little straighter, a hesitant smile curving his aged features. "You're welcome," he replied. Then, after a moment's thought "Would you like to see the monkeys?"

Sarah released a half-hysterical burst of laughter. She wanted to ask if he was serious, but this was Walter, so of course he was. "We're talking about the live ones, right? You don't have a stack of chimp corpses back there?"

"Of course not," Walter assured her. "Not anymore."

"Not anymore," Sarah repeated under her breath before shrugging and rolling her eyes heavenward for a moment. "Why the hell not?" To Olivia, "Apparently I'm going to go see the monkeys now."

"Watch the one on the far left," Peter advised. "Bastard has a biting problem."

"Peter!" Walter admonished. "You shouldn't talk like that in front of your father."

"Well you know Walter, you probably shouldn't talk to me about your rectal shots, but I guess we've all got our crosses to bear."

"Broyles and Walternate are already on standby huh?" Olivia asked, once Sarah and Walter had embarked on their miniature field trip. "I had no idea you were working on something like this," the blonde added, without being angry.

"I didn't want to get your hopes up," Peter replied. "I still don't."

Olivia studied him for a long moment, the stubble, the red of his eyes contrasting sharply with the bags beneath them. "Thank you for working so hard on this."

"Don't," he refuted, shaking his head and waving off her apology.

Neither moved for a moment. Walter could be heard nearby, briefing Sarah on the names of all the chimps. Olivia didn't plan on walking the few steps between them and ending up in an embrace, but that's what happened. Peter didn't complain, only wrapped his arms around her and held tight. Olivia shed a few tears against his shoulder, making sure they were silent. Whether she cried out of grief over Sarah's worsened prognosis or relief at the possibility of a way out of this nightmare, Olivia didn't know. Peter's lips brushed her cheek and she let them, and for a moment it was almost like it used to be.

"You really think this is our best bet?" she asked after pulling away and trying to be subtle about wiping her eyes.

"I wouldn't suggest it if I thought it would do more harm than good, Olivia."

"I know. That's not what I asked."

Peter closed his eyes a moment, raked a hand through his hair. 'At this point, I think it might be our only bet."

* * *

Olivia didn't look at Sarah as they walked through the hallway that would shortly be leading them into another world. The blonde felt rather than saw her lover tense up as they approached the sergeant guarding the door. Briefly, Olivia ran her fingers over Sarah's. Didn't seem to do much good, but it was all the comfort she could manage just now. In the few seconds it took to reach the door and halt in front of the soldier, Olivia flashed back on the hour's worth of arguing that took place before they left this morning.

"_Do you even _want _to beat this?"_

"_How can you ask me that? Honestly, how can you look me in the eye and ask me that?"_

"_Because I _am _looking you in the eye and I know what you're doing. You've been doing it for a month."_

"_Have I? Well please, enlighten me then."_

"_I tell you we're going to beat it, you say nothing. Every single time. And now you tell me we're going to have this meeting, , but you say it like your humoring me, like you're doing me a favor by trying to save your life."_

"_Really. Because I thought that the whole idea of getting poison dripped into my arm for the last month _was_ to save my life. Doesn't seem to be working. Forgive me for not bouncing off the walls like Walter at the idea of trying a different kind."_

"_So you're scared of the Cortexiphan. Fine, I get that, but things will_ _be different this time." A pause. "I wouldn't let anything happen to you."_

_Sarah chuckled mirthlessly. "You act like it's something you can control."_

"_I can't, you're right. But Walter and Peter _can. _And given all that's happened I'd think you'd be able to trust them already, but if you can't then trust _me. _Or is that too much to ask for from you?_

"_Don't act like I've got a patent on control issues, Olivia. You want this meeting, we're having it, but it's not enough. I'm sorry if I'm inconveniencing you by not agreeing flat-out to getting that crap pumped through my veins and putting my son-"_

"_John? You're making this about _John_ now? You heard Walter and Peter; you're not exposing him to any kind of risk. He's probably in more danger on that boat right now than he would be from this."_

"_Why don't you stop trying to make me feel better?"_

"_I'm not _trying _to make you feel better; I'm trying to get it. Explain it to me in a way that makes sense."_

_In response, Sarah cursed silently under her breath. "There are different kinds of risks. He does this for me, his information goes into some computer, genetic information. Whether the name's fake or not, it's there. _He's _there."_

"_So we erase it. John, those kids he recruited from MIT, whoever. They've done it before, they'll do it again. I don't-"_

"_They _hid _it before," Sarah corrected. "Nothing's truly erased, nothing. There's always some trace, even John and his tech squad admitted that when they got our new data into the system. It's all about hiding, and the more John stays off the grid and out of computer systems, the better."_

_Olivia took a steeling breath, knowing full-well that she was stepping into a minefield. "No one is looking for him. All right? I'm not saying the machines are gone for good but right now we need to assume they are. I'm not letting you toss out your life on the possibility they'll come back."_

"_Fine, we'll talk _probability_. Walter said there's a high _probability _of complications. I'm going to be decimated when they do this. I get a cold, I could be dead. Or the marrow doesn't work and I die anyway. Then the machines come back and I'm not here, but still, I lead them to him. I did that before, I can't do it again."_

_Cromartie. Some punk in a bowling alley. Olivia had heard the story, but didn't find it convincing. "Why don't you tell me what this really is? If it's all about the Cortexiphan, then just say that, because what you're giving me now isn't working. You don't want to risk John's safety if the machines show up again, but you'll risk not being here if they do. So you'd rather have John and Savannah fighting in your place?"_

"_Don't go there," Sarah said in a low, rough voice. "You know better than that."_

"_Based on what you're telling me? No, I don't."_

_Long moments of tense silence. "How about you tell _me _something. Tell me what happened in bed last night. I stopped, like you wanted, so tell me why I did that."_

"_I…I really don't see how that matters right now. At all."_

"_Matters to me."_

_Olivia didn't know how to address that, so she decided to pretend that she didn't have to. "I can't beat them if you're not here. Do you understand that? If they come back or if something else happens between the universes…I can't do it again, not by myself."_

_The quiet was so heavy it threatened to suffocate. Sarah put her back to the blonde before answering. "Did you think you could shoot your stepfather? Before it happened, did you really think you could?"_

_Sarah's voice wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm either, and something behind it, some unidentifiable element, shocked Olivia to the core. "No. I didn't."_

_Sarah nodded without turning. "You still did it."_

"_Yeah. And you know what that did to me. And I don't know how you can think of putting me in a position like that again."_

Olivia blinked herself out of painful memories as the guard went through his spiel on being subject to the other side's laws once they crossed over. A few more seconds of electronic scanning and they were through the door, in a conference room Olivia had become very familiar with over the years.

They'd barely talked since they left the house, but Sarah couldn't help voicing her surprise. "That's it? Walk through a doorway and we're in another universe?"

Olivia shrugged, trying to suppress the anger and hurt of this morning. They were here, that was something, which would hopefully lead to something else, a good outcome. "I told you," she said, attempting to keep her voice light.

Sarah looked around in bemusement. "I had more trouble getting in and out of Mexico. So what now?"

"Now we wait. Whenever one of us is on this side, or vice-versa, the team with jurisdiction sends a liaison, an escort. Standard procedure since Peter built the Bridge."

"So we need a babysitter to take us to our doctor's appointment."

Olivia smiled a bit in spite of herself. "Essentially, yeah. Don't worry. Agent Lee's a good guy. Won't be a problem."

The door that led out into the rest of the building had been cracked open when they entered, and now swung in all the way as their babysitter arrived. Sarah and Olivia both turned, only to find that it wasn't Lincoln Lee they were facing.

"I wouldn't tell _him _that you think he's such a great guy, it'll go straight to his head. But he said to say hi, and that you still owe him a coffee the next time he's on your side of the Bridge."

Sarah had to fight to keep her jaw closed. She'd never been here before. Nor had she seen the version of Olivia with red hair and bangs, more makeup and a leather coat in place of a power suit.

"Hi," said the woman who Walter had referred to at various times as Altlivia, Fauxlivia, Viper, Mata Hari, and several other titles the brunette couldn't quite remember at the moment. "You must be Sarah," she said, lips curved as she held out a hand. "Nice to meet you."


	7. Chapter 7

It wasn't an easy thing, shocking Sarah Connor. At this point in her life, after all she'd seen and done, it was practically impossible. Getting the brunette to actually _show _that she'd been floored, that was an even greater feat. The alternate version of Olivia Dunham succeeded on both counts, at least for a few seconds. After that Sarah was able to pull on her poker face, but by then it was pointless to pretend that she wasn't affected. Still, she made the effort, maintaining her coolest stare and keeping her hand down until the redhead followed suit and dropped her own.

"Okay then," said the leather-clad FBI agent. To her credit, her composure remained mostly intact, smile faltering for just a moment as she gave up on the handshake. "I guess my reputation precedes me."

"I really don't see how it couldn't," Sarah retorted, nodding her head slightly.

Briefly, the redhead's eyes found those of her counterpart. Olivia knew what the other woman was searching for, but had no plans, and no ability, to provide it. She and her doppelganger had reached an accord over the years yes, while all Sarah's knowledge and impressions of the woman came from her awareness of the havoc wreaked on Olivia. But with everything else that was happening here and now, Olivia wasn't prepared to deal with the other woman as well.

Apparently realizing she'd get no help from her double, the redhead continued to address Sarah. 'I assume 'I'm sorry' isn't going to work here."

"Another one right. Is that a record for you?"

"You want to just get all the easy ones out of the way? I was just following orders," the redhead said, the last part sounding like a bad line read from a script.

"That's what a lot of the Nazis said after their boss lost."

"True. So we're comparing me to Hitler."

Sarah shrugged. "Maybe not. What was his girlfriend's name again?"

"Eva Braun," the redhead supplied, still with an air of casual friendliness. "She was actually his wife, at least for a little while. So how do you want to handle the name thing?"

"Handle it? I didn't plan on calling you by name so I think we're good."

"Well, guess I get off easy then. I'm sure you and Walter have plenty of endearing titles for me."

"Oh I've got my own. Better ones. Or worse, depending on perspective. I don't need to draw from Walter's list." It wasn't that she'd forgotten this woman's contribution to their fight. Nor had she forgotten that the others seemed to have reached a level of peace with her. Sarah remembered those things, but she also knew how deeply it still cut her lover, what happened years ago. And maybe she resented it more than she'd like to admit, the fact that her relationship with Olivia wouldn't exist if this _other _version hadn't slept with the man that Olivia had loved before she, Sarah came along. It irked her somehow, knowing the woman she was sniping with had an indirect hand in forming her relationship with Olivia.

Eyebrows raised, the redhead ran her gaze over Sarah's body, making no attempt to hide the action. The smile she'd worn on entering the room had changed type without disappearing. "Well as long as we're foregoing the pleasantries…I can see why you changed teams."

This last was directed at the blonde, who'd recovered enough to realize that she needed to step in. Sarah made a small motion with her hand, and Olivia knew without asking that she was fighting the urge to reach for a gun she wasn't carrying. "What are you doing here? Where's Lincoln" the blonde asked, attempting to regulate her own emotions. Her counterpart had helped her save two worlds; they'd worked together after that, done good work. Olivia owed it to the other woman to at least try and keep the peace. Maybe. It would be easier to decide if Sarah wasn't staring so much. The brunette was masking it with cool indifference but Olivia knew what she was seeing. She also knew that she was falling prey to the insecurities the redhead always brought up in her, but could do nothing to halt the process.

"Agent Lee has his niece's bat mitzvah today. Oh, and he also told me to tell you that if any brawls get started, one of us is required to stay on the sidelines so we can film it for him. Very professional, isn't he?"

Sarah shook her head, finding _her _Olivia's gaze. Seeing the expression there, the brunette realized that she needed to change tactics. "So. A bat mitzvah. Mazel tov. Shouldn't you be playing tour guide or something?"

"Sure the redhead replied, gesturing toward the door. "Shall we?" She still seemed unfazed by Sarah's behavior.

Sarah hung back, mirroring the other woman's action without moving. "You're the tour guide. Lead on, Macbeth."

"Macduff," the redhead corrected, stepping out of the conference room. "And the actual quote was '_Lay on_, Macduff.'"

"What can I say?" Sarah countered. "I have this strange association in my head between you and Lady Macbeth. The lay part…I don't think you want me to go there."

Olivia walked at Sarah's side, hanging back and trying not to care as her counterpart merely laughed in response to the jibe. "Do you need to stare so much?" the blonde asked, keeping her voice down and letting the other woman get farther ahead of them.

Sarah turned incredulous eyes on her lover. "Are you telling me you _didn't _stare the first time you saw her?"

Fair point, except that it wasn't. "Not like you are."

"If a woman with red hair and a British accent walked down this hallway right now looking like my twin-"

"She doesn't have an accent. There's no accent," Olivia interrupted.

Sarah did a mental five-count. "I'm making a hypothetical…" Again she looked, really _looked _into her lover's eyes, and again she changed strategies. "I'm not staring at her the way I stare at you," Sarah said, briefly squeezing the blonde's hand and leaning close to make the assertion because her voice was barely a whisper.

Olivia shivered a little, tried to hide it. Sarah's breath on her ear made it difficult to think. Sadly it couldn't erase all of her old fears relating to the redhead. "However you're staring at her, you could be a little less obvious about it."

"I'm not obvious."

"You are. You always were."

"With _you, _when it was about _you_," Sarah emphasized. "One, you're giving her observational skills too much credit," said the brunette, nodding toward their escort's back. "And two, I had to be obvious with you because in the beginning you were so preoccupied with the saving the world crap that I didn't have a choice."

"Saving the world crap," Olivia repeated, lips quirking as she parroted Sarah's dismissive tone. "Is that how you thought of it?"

"When we were staying in one of Nina Sharp's buildings with five other people and I wanted to fuck you in one of the guestrooms but you didn't notice because you were so enthralled in one of Walter's crazy science lessons? Yes, that's how I thought of it."

Olivia felt heat rise to her face. And down to other places. She made a show of checking to see that the hallway was clear so she wouldn't have to look at Sarah. "Stop trying to distract me."

"I'm not. Four years ago I was. Didn't work. Had to be more obvious about it."

Olivia smiled, no longer trying to keep it from entering her voice. "Just don't think about asking me to dye my hair or grow my bangs out."

"I didn't say a thing."

* * *

The moments of levity were short-lived. By the time they'd come and gone from the offices of the doctors Peter had been consulting with, Sarah and Olivia had again stopped speaking. Their escort was leaning against the wall of a deserted hospital corridor as they ended their last visit.

"Problem?" the redhead asked, straightening up and raising her eyebrows at the expressions worn by the other two.

There seemed to be actual concern there. Sarah ignored it. She was busy fuming over what had just been suggested to her.

"_We're not talking about large amounts."_

_The doctor's name was Hastings. Sarah's glare suggested that she wished to wipe him, any evidence of his existence, his very _name, _off the planet. "And that makes it okay? Bad enough you're talking about dosing _me _with that garbage, now you want my _son_-"_

"_It's not a matter of want," Hastings interrupted, taking in a steeling breath before continuing. "Any transplant carries the risk of rejection. No matter how genetically similar it might be, the new marrow we'd use would still be a foreign substance. The Cortexiphan that would make you strong enough for the procedure, it also permeates the system. We'd need to create a dosing schedule for you before the transplant, and your body would adapt to the drug's presence. Giving you marrow from a non-Cortexiphan user-"_

"_So you admit this stuff lingers in the system, you admit that you haven't been working with it long enough to have any idea what the long-term effects will be, and you want to give it to my son."_

"_Again, it's not a matter of want. But our studies so far show that the transplants have higher success rates when both patient and donor are treated with Cortexiphan ahead of time. The recipient's body is less likely to treat the new marrow as an invader if that new marrow is as close as possible to what their system has grown used to."_

"_I think we're done here. Thanks for your time." Sarah would've left right then if Olivia hadn't stopped her._

"_I understand your reluctance," Hastings said after a brief exchange of heated words between the women. "If you're dead-set against it-"_

"_Safe assumption," Sarah cut in._

"_Then we _can _proceed without your son receiving the Cortexiphan treatments. Our chances of success go down but-"_

"_Down by how much?" Olivia asked, ignoring the death-glare from Sarah._

"_It doesn't _matter _how much Olivia, because it's not happening. John's not-"_

"_How much?" Olivia repeated in a voice that dared Sarah to interrupt again._

"_Each case is different. I'm hesitant to…" The looks he was getting from blonde and brunette convinced Hastings that avoidance wasn't an option here. "If you and your son both receive the Cortexiphan, 60/40 odds that the marrow would take. In a case where only you get the treatments…reverse that figure."_

"Miracle cure has a few flaws," Sarah stated coolly.

Olivia grimaced, even though the words weren't necessarily directed at her. Sarah was refusing to look at _either _Olivia Dunham, but the air of anger and frustration she gave off was strong enough to shroud both FBI agents. Much of the brunette's ire was concentrated on Peter, Olivia knew that without asking. He'd been unusually edgy while presenting the transplant idea, but she'd chalked that up to the Cortexiphan, the drug being a sore subject for everyone in the room. She realized now that he had to have known about this little issue, suspected what would happen when she and Sarah found out. Part of her cursed him his silence but at the same time…she didn't. Getting Sarah here was difficult enough to begin with. If the words 'John' and 'Cortexiphan' had been uttered in the same sentence, game over. Of course he could've told Olivia while they were alone, but telling her would've meant the same thing as telling both of them. Because Olivia had never been good at hiding things from Sarah, even when they were strangers at that lousy college bar. And even barring that, Olivia would've had to say something, because there was simply no other choice. At least this way she could plead ignorance without lying. Perhaps their mutual frustration with Peter would serve as common ground on which to regroup later. For now though, the brunette still wasn't looking at her.

Sarah felt caged. She would've bolted except she didn't feel like being chased by her lover's redheaded doppelganger. Sarah was still having issues _processing_ their escort, accepting that the double was here, figuring out what she, Sarah, was supposed to do with that. She had vague notions of punching the woman in the face, simply because she lacked a better option. Her old instincts had been triggered, the ones that saw a threat to John and told her to strike out or run. Instead of doing either of those things, she finally (and not without difficulty), found _her_ Olivia's gaze. She'd wanted to run on that first night too. After the bar and before the sex, she'd been ready to bolt from Olivia's apartment. But the blonde had kept her there somehow, steadied her both physically and emotionally. Sarah was ready to surrender, to search for that source of stability again, when the _other _Olivia's phone rang.

The redhead pulled her cell from her pocket while the blonde started to move toward Sarah. She'd seen the look in green eyes, the barely-visible plea. It didn't negate anything else, but it took priority. Olivia had her mind set on doing…_something _to fix this, but that required her to walk past her twin. And when she did that, Olivia saw a picture on the phone screen, a photo of the caller. She turned her face away as soon as she realized who she was looking at, but by then it was far too late. An updated image of the boy joined the one that was already stored in her photographic memory like an undetonated landmine. Now there were two of those mines.

God he looked like Peter. It almost scared her, how much the four-year-old Henry Dunham already looked like his father. _Almost _scared her.

He had her eyes. Maybe the nose too. That _did _scare her. And knowing that they _weren't _her features, that the child wasn't hers, that didn't help.

Sarah frowned as the blonde grimaced and looked in another direction. It was a quick move, but not quick enough for Sarah to miss the way the blood suddenly left Olivia's face. Green eyes went between blonde and redhead once, and then Sarah got it. The _other _one was looking much too apologetic for someone receiving a call from the boss, and _her _Olivia looked as if she'd just seen a ghost. Or a phantom representation of what could've been. Sarah swallowed once, hard, toughening her voice as well so the quiver wouldn't be audible. "You should get that."

For the first time since meeting the brunette, that calm, easy exterior fell away completely. The redhead was all apology and uncertainty before putting her back to Sarah, walking a short distance down the corridor. "Hey buddy," she greeted in a voice that was completely unlike anything she'd used today. "What's going on?"

The tone was soft, but not soft enough to keep Sarah from hearing bits of conversation. The exchange made her edgy, no doubting that. Worse though was watching her lover's reaction. The word 'daddy' drifted across the hall repeatedly and Olivia winced a bit every time, as if those sharp edges that were creeping up on Sarah had reached Olivia first, piercing her skin. All morning the redhead, the _other one_ had felt like an intruder. Now Sarah experienced an unpleasant role reversal. She was the outsider, witnessing the continuation of that fucked up little love triangle between Peter and the two Olivia's. She'd known it still hurt, that _Henry _still tore at something in her girlfriend's soul, simply by existing. She hadn't known that it hurt this much, after this much time. Sarah wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel about that, so she chose to remove herself. If she got away for a minute, maybe that would be long enough to outrun the feelings. She'd always been so much better at running than she was at emotions.

"I'm going to find a bathroom. If _she_ tries to follow me, tell her I have a history of assaulting people in law enforcement."

That was the closest Olivia got to a goodbye, a curt explanation given while Sarah was already walking past her. And though the warning to stay away was ostensibly directed at her twin, Olivia wasn't foolish enough to think that it was only meant for one person. She was cursing Sarah, herself and the redhead when the last one on that list ended her call and closed the distance between them.

"Sorry."

She meant it. The blonde knew it. That knowledge did nothing to help. "What for?" Before an answer could be given, "He all right?"

"Yeah, yeah he's good. He's just, he caught something at daycare I think. Got a bit of a fever."

Some part of Olivia's mind wondered which of them found this conversation more painful. Another part was stuck on the idea that it was Sunday morning, that the other woman had a sick kid at home. That she was here instead of there. "You found a sitter at this time of day, short notice?"

A pause. Not terribly long, but long enough. "Yeah. He's with my mother so…good hands."

Olivia had been working up to a thank-you. Honestly. She would've gotten there any second, without the reminder of yet another thing her alternate possessed that she herself had lost forever. "Does he see her a lot?"

It came out unnaturally stiff, but the redhead played along, pretending that it hadn't. "Yeah. All the time."

"Good."

Silence. Heavy, extended silence. "Is Sarah okay?"

Olivia saw the redhead's face, saw the regret forming before the question was even out of her mouth. "Sarah's dying. So no."

She hadn't meant to say it, hadn't meant to press when she _knew _that the other woman regretted the words. And then Olivia realized something. She'd never said it before. Not in those terms, in that way.

Sarah's dying.

Sick. Olivia _always _said sick. Peter, Walter, even Sarah had used the other word before. Not her, not Olivia. Sick was so much more…manageable. Sick was easy, bearable. If she tried hard enough, Olivia could use the word 'sick' and trick herself into grouping Sarah in with Henry. Just a fever. A little medicine and extra fluids, problem solved. Just cancer. Some different marrow, a little bit of the drug that had forever altered Olivia's life, no big deal.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

The redhead blinked several times, surprise showing on her face. "Would you like me to pretend I don't care?"

"I'd like you to _stop _pretending that you do."

"You know, I get why Sarah has a problem with me. You and me, me and Walter, we got our chance to have it out about what happened. She didn't, so I get why _she _thinks I'm some soulless monster. But you-"

"What? What about me? We had a few words, worked a few cases so you want me to forget? Time heals all wounds, is that it?"

"No. No, time heals nothing. I just thought we were as past this as we were ever going to get, but here we are talking like the last few years never happened."

"Time heals nothing?" Olivia parroted, ignoring the other stuff because it was simpler that way. "You would know, would you?"

The question was soaked in sarcasm. The redhead's only acknowledgment of that was a slight narrowing of the eyes. "I know I caused you pain. But don't think because of that that you have the market cornered on loss. And if you're going to resent me because my mother's alive, that's fine. Just do me a favor and hug Ella and Rachel next time you see them."

The redhead didn't quite break on the last part, but came close enough to it that Olivia had to blink several times. She forgot sometimes, still, after all these years. Forgot that Marilyn Dunham was alive here, that her daughter and granddaughter weren't. There was nothing to say to that, to this version of reality, so Olivia merely waited for her alternate to fill the silence.

"Look, Henry was sick once, _really _sick. And I ended up sitting in the emergency room with my mother, arguing about the dress she wouldn't let me wear for prom. Twenty years ago. And I think that despite me telling you before that we're nothing alike, despite both of us maybe wanting to think that …we are. So if you need to make this about what happened a few years ago instead of whatever just happened with that doctor, go ahead."

"Go ahead." Olivia repeated. "Is this your version of a favor?"

Shrugging, the redhead spread her arms a little in a gesture of supplication. "Come on. Hit me with your best shot, fire away and all that."

Olivia fought off a half-bitter, half-hysterical burst of laughter. Because of the randomly placed pop culture reference, but mostly because of the infuriating fact that the redhead wasn't wrong. Their thinking patterns weren't identical, but they were certainly similar enough. And it _was _easier to focus on the smaller, inconsequential things than to worry about the seemingly insurmountable stuff that she had no control over. Go back a few years and she wouldn't have believed that the hijacking of her life and Peter's unknowing betrayal would seem inconsequential, but there it was. Time did funny things. "Do you even _have _that song here?" the blonde asked. Pat Benatar was inconsequential too. She'd have a much easier time dealing with Pat Benatar than she would handling the verbal admission that her lover was dying.

"No, the redhead admitted. "Unfortunately not. I'd write it myself and get rich enough that I wouldn't have to stay here and play babysitter all the time, but they made me sign an agreement when I came back from your side saying that I wouldn't do anything like that."

"Are you serious?" Her double was back to that casual, easy _thing _that the blonde had never been good at accomplishing, and was also apparently terrible at reading in this version of herself.

"Uh-huh," the redhead nodded. "Notarized and everything. Lincoln was a witness. You think I wouldn't have used a few U2 lyrics to get myself a penthouse in New York otherwise?"

Several beats of silence. Then Olivia laughed. It wasn't warm or anything else particularly good, but it was genuine at least, even if that meant it came out genuinely pitiful.

"You still think you wouldn't have done it," the redhead prodded, once her double's small concession to levity had died down.

"There are lines," the blonde responded. "There's doing your job, fulfilling an assignment, but there are still lines." She said the words, she believed them, but there was no heat behind them. The old pain had flared for a moment when she saw Henry, but now she was just using that pain, this whole line of conversation, to distract her from the new hurts, the ones that threatened to eat her alive.

"And you never crossed any lines before?"

"Not the ones you did, no."

"Fair enough. When you did cross them, why'd you do it? I doubt that you were just playing rebel without a cause."

"I wasn't," the blonde confirmed. It was like they were discussing the weather, not the rationale that had allowed the other woman to steal Olivia's life and one-time love. " Sometimes the cause is more important than staying within the lines. And I know you got yourself thinking that it was okay to sacrifice one world for the other because of that, but there were other options."

"Peter told me that once," the redhead mused, talking almost to herself. "That there's always another choice. And maybe there is. But sometimes none of them are good."

"So you chose the lesser of two evils, is that it?" Still no heat behind the words. She didn't even care at this point. All she was doing was keeping herself from caring about other things.

Always quick with the retorts once they initiated a sparring session, the redhead wasn't so fast this time. When she did answer, there was nothing glib about it. "Amanda Simon."

Suddenly Olivia cared. She shouldn't, because she hadn't spoken or even thought of that name in years but she did.

Her double nodded, looking unsurprised at the blonde's reaction. "American History 101, two seats behind you?"

American _Literature _101, and Amanda had sat three seats in front of her, but pointing out the differences seemed overly facetious. "We were friends at Northwestern."

"Friends? You're walking around with Sarah Connor on your arm and you want to play the friends card? So I guess Amanda took _your_ virginity too."

It wasn't a question and Olivia didn't feel like answering anyway. "We broke up the summer after freshmen year, what about her?" Actually Olivia had been the one to end it. The pretty English major might've stuck around if Olivia hadn't been so good at pushing her away. She hadn't done it consciously, but it happened nonetheless. The fear of intimacy that kept her away from Peter for two years had won out two decades earlier, effectively ending Olivia's first love affair.

"_We _didn't break up, that's what. We were together until I was twenty-three. We were graduating in a month and I was going to propose after the ceremony." The chuckle the redhead released was uncharacteristically bitter. "Flowers, chocolates, corny music. I had this whole corny, elaborate thing planned."

Distantly, Olivia thought about how they were so much more tolerant about what constituted a marriage on this side. Most of her mind though was focused on the story, the ending she didn't know, but was sure she didn't want to hear. "So what happened?"

"Fringe event happened. Don't ask which one, it doesn't really matter. Just another one of the unexplainable, unfixable nightmares that'd been tearing this world apart ever since your Walter crossed over. I'm not getting into the ethics of would I or wouldn't I, because I might've torn a couple of worlds apart too if it were about Henry, and I wouldn't _have _Henry without Peter. But still. Walter did what he did, and a lot of people suffered because of it. Amanda died because of it. And afterward, I had a choice. I could either crawl in a corner somewhere and shut down, like I wanted to, or I could do something to make sure things like that stopped happening. I made the harder choice, I joined Fringe Division. And when I did that, I signed on to make a lot of other hard choices, including the one that led to me trying to be you. And if you honestly think I did that without questions or regrets, you're incredibly naïve. But I doubt that. I think you probably love Sarah the way I loved Amanda. And I hope that you don't have to feel what I felt when I couldn't save her. It'd also be good if you stopped treating me like a heartless bitch."

There was nothing to say. It'd happened enough times already, but Olivia never quite knew what to do when her double dropped the act, stopped playing so cavalier with everything. "I'm sorry," she said finally, meaning it. It felt hollow in the face of what she'd just heard, but so did everything else that she could think to say.

The redhead nodded, coughed into her hand so they could both pretend she wasn't ridding herself of a tear. "I'm sorry about Sarah."

Olivia returned the nod. This time she didn't tell the other woman to stop apologizing.

* * *

After Sarah rejoined them, her lover quietly ordered the brunette to end the cutting remarks. When pressed, the blonde simply reminded her of the truce that'd been reached years earlier. Without buying Olivia's explanation for the sudden cease fire order, Sarah complied anyway. Which, since she and her girlfriend were barely speaking, meant that the duration of their visit to the other universe was filled with a series of long, uncomfortable silences. As was her habit, the red-haired version of Olivia Dunham made a few attempts to lighten the mood by getting a rise out of the other two, but even those were half-hearted. As such, there was no real conversation between Sarah and the blonde until they crossed back into their own world and were both accosted by the sounds of their cell phones.

"Goddammit," Sarah cursed as they exited the Bridge and realized they had five missed calls between them.

A conversation on the way quelled Olivia's fears of any kind of mortal danger, though she didn't argue when her sister pulled her into a hug as soon as the opportunity was there.

"God Liv. Why didn't you tell me?"

Sighing, the blonde rested her head on the younger woman's shoulder. She'd always been the more together one, the one offering comfort and protection. However, it wasn't yet noon and Olivia already felt like she'd gone a few rounds with a shapeshifter, so for once she chose to throw up her hands and go with it. Her explanation came muffled against the material of Rachel's shirt. "I'm sorry. You've had so much going on with Greg, I didn't want to add to it." That was true enough. Rachel had been going back and forth with her now ex-husband for years, fighting over Ella and everything else before attempting one of their many reconciliations. The last one though seemed truly to be the _last _one and her sister and niece were finally getting settled into some form of normality. Olivia hadn't wanted to risk that by throwing Sarah's illness into the mix.

Rachel, predictably was less-than pleased with the explanation. "Who cares about Greg, Greg's an idiot," she said dismissively. "And so are you."

The tone and the kiss to her cheek killed any sting the words might've had, and in spite of herself, Olivia chuckled a little. "Thanks Rach," she said, meaning it even though there was sarcasm in her voice. Remembering that her counterpart would never have this, remembering the other woman's request, Olivia squeezed her sister a little tighter. "Seriously," she said after pulling out of the hug. "Thank you."

"Oh stop. I just wish I'd gotten in there sooner. I swear I thought they were just crashed out, then when I went upstairs to get them up for breakfast…"

She'd found Savannah sobbing quietly and Ella very close to doing the same. The redhead had barely looked at or spoken to any of them before making her way to the truck. Closing her own eyes, Olivia silently cursed herself for not being there. "You have nothing to apologize for. Thanks for trying to call."

"Yeah, where were you?" Rachel asked without making it an accusation. "The cryptic phone calls I'm used to, but obviously you weren't working this time and usually you're joined at the hip to your phone." A look of dismay suddenly clouded the younger woman's features. "Oh God. Are you okay? Is Sarah-"

"Everything's fine," Olivia said quickly. Then, realizing the ridiculousness of that statement. "Relatively. We had a meeting with some doctors about treatment options and we both turned our phones off. I'm sorry."

Rachel looked like she wanted to ask how normal it was to have such a meeting on a Sunday morning, but she held her tongue on that score. "One of us really needs to stop apologizing, this is getting pathetic. How'd it go? What are they talking about doing?"

Olivia shook her head, temporarily at a loss. She couldn't talk about the Cortexiphan, probably _wouldn't_, even if she could. "We're still figuring some things out, discussing options." That wasn't strictly true. There was only one real option left to them, and they certainly weren't discussing it because Sarah went into lockdown mode every time Olivia made the attempt. "Hey, I know we have to talk I just…been a long morning, Sarah and Savannah are outside-"

"No, of course, it's fine." Shaking her head and blinking rapidly, Rachel pulled her older sister into another hug, briefer but no less loving than the first. "If I can do anything-"

"Already did it," Olivia interrupted, feeling the tightness of Rachel's grip and wondering how much of it was related to her genuine affection for Sarah, and how was about her unconditional love for their mother. Watching Marilyn Dunham waste away had scarred a teenaged Olivia for life. Rachel had been younger, but not young enough to forget the gory details.

"I'm serious, Liv."

"So am I," the older Dunham asserted before pulling back from the embrace. "But I'll call you if there's anything you can help with." In the face of Rachel's stern look, Olivia actually cracked a smile. "And I'll call you if there isn't."

"You'd better." More somberly. "You should also talk to Ella before you go. She's in her room acting like she's fine but-'

"She's not fine," Olivia finished, already heading towards Ella's doorway.

She had to step over the sleeping bag Savannah used the night before in order to reach her niece Ella was sprawled out on her bed, looking dejected. Certainly there wasn't the closeness that Sarah had with Savannah, but the brunette had still been a fairly strong presence in Ella's life for years. "Hey you," Olivia greeted softly, settling herself on the edge of the mattress.

"Hi," Ella replied. Her voice was slightly ragged and her eyes were suspiciously bright.

Biting at her lower lip, Olivia shifted until she was lying down next to the girl, propped up against the pillows. Then she merely held her arms open. Ella leaned into her without a word of complaint, a clear mark of her distress level. They hadn't done this in years and on any other day, Ella wouldn't allow it to happen now. But she didn't argue when Olivia stroked her hair back and dropped a kiss against soft locks. "I love you very much, you know that right?" the blonde asked, again remembering what her alternate had missed out on.

"Yeah," Ella answered, keeping her confirmation short and sweet. "You love Sarah too."

Olivia closed her eyes as she felt her niece's hold tighten fractionally. "Yeah," she parroted, all she could manage with the fist-sized lump that was constricting her throat.

"I'm sorry she's sick," Ella stated, doing an admirable job of trying to hide the crack in her voice.

"Me too." Olivia knew she should say more, _needed _to say more. The words wouldn't come. She was still attempting to summon them when Ella slipped out of her arms and walked across to the dresser. Rummaging in one of the smaller drawers for a few seconds, Ella returned with a tiny item clutched in her hand. It wasn't until she resettled next to her aunt and tried to hand the object over that Olivia got a good look at what it was.

"Here," Ella said, holding the necklace out.

"Sweetheart, what's this? I gave this to you." Olivia looked at the chain bearing her mother's cross before finding her niece's gaze, confusion clear on her features.

"I know. I remember."

So did Olivia. With even more clarity than she remembered everything else. She'd given the necklace to a six-year-old Ella right before her first foray into the other universe, not quite believing that she'd be alive for a return trip.

"_It's pretty," her niece had said, touching the cross with small_ fingers.

"_My mother, your grandmother, gave it to me before she died," Olivia explained, carefully placing the chain around Ella's neck. "She told me that it would keep me safe. So now I'm giving it to you."_

"_Thanks, Aunt Liv."_

"Ella this is yours," Olivia insisted. "What's going on?"

It took the girl a moment to answer, to even meet Olivia's gaze. "You think it works?"

"Do I think what works?" Olivia asked, lips twisting in a puzzled frown.

"The necklace. You think grandma was right, that it could keep you safe?"

Olivia faltered for an uncharacteristically long moment. Because she _didn't _believe in the power of that cross, never had. Churches and prayers and that necklace, none of it had saved Marilyn from Olivia's stepfather. Or from the cancer that eventually killed her. It meant so much to Olivia because it had meant so much to her mother, not because she shared any of the woman's beliefs. Olivia didn't know how to express that to Ella though, and fortunately she didn't have to.

"Maybe it works. Your job's really dangerous and you always ended up okay."

That argument might've been more persuasive if she'd ever actually _worn _the cross, in the field or out. But before landing in Ella's drawer, it'd stayed in a box at the back of Olivia's closet. From the time Olivia moved in to her old apartment until she handed Ella the necklace, it hadn't been touched. But again, Olivia was unable or unwilling to tell Ella any of that. "My job _was _dangerous," she corrected as if the distinction actually mattered. "Not anymore. Too old for the dangerous stuff."

Ella's concession to the attempted humor was a brief eye roll. Seconds later she was back to total seriousness. "You should give Sarah the necklace. Even if it doesn't work, it can't hurt anything."

The words were laced with more desperation than hope, but that didn't mean the hope wasn't there. Olivia was more pessimistic. About the cross having value as something besides a family heirloom, and about Sarah's ability to believe that anything, much less this necklace, could keep her safe.

"I don't know what else to do," Ella admitted, ducking her head when her aunt still refused to take the chain.

"Sweetheart…" Olivia murmured, pulling the girl close and ghosting another kiss to the top of her head. "You did plenty. Okay?"

Ella nodded, but her voice didn't match her action. "I woke up and she was just crying. I tried to get her to tell me…I didn't think…everything seemed so great yesterday."

It had. But yesterday was an illusion, a temporary reprieve from the cold reality she'd tried to shield her family from. "I know. It _was _great. We _wanted_ it to be great, which is why we didn't tell you. I'm sorry."

Ella shook her head more fervently this time, showing that she found the apology completely unnecessary. "I just want to help."

"You did. You _do_," Olivia asserted, squeezing her niece tight again before gently pressing the chain back into her hands and folding her fingers over it. "But this is yours. Grandma would've wanted you to have it, _I _want you to have it, so it's yours. If you want to help Savannah, just talk to her. Be there for her like you were this morning."

"And you?"

"Hmmm?"

"What if I want to help you?"

"If you want to help me, you can come here and give me another hug."

The request was superfluous since Olivia was still holding the girl, but Ella obeyed anyway, tightening her hold on the FBI agent. "Tell Sarah that," the girl paused, struggling with her words. "That I want her to get better." Another eye roll followed this. "God that's lame."

"It's not lame," Olivia countered, smiling a bit at Ella's small return to her usual pre-teen self. Then the smile faded as Olivia once again thought of her mother, of how that necklace hadn't saved her, hadn't saved Olivia from having to bury her. "I want her to get better too," the blonde murmured.

* * *

"I'm fine," Savannah stated after several minutes of waiting for Olivia's return.

"Did I ask?" Sarah questioned, trying to keep her voice somewhere close to light.

"You've been staring at me in the rearview mirror since I got in. Which is like asking, except worse."

Savannah herself had been looking out the window since she entered the truck, but she wasn't wrong about Sarah scrutinizing her. With effort, the brunette tore her eyes from the backseat, pretending to care about the view from her own window. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked. And I know what fine is. Fine is _not _fine, and you not wanting to talk about it."

"You're right; I don't want to talk about it. " A pause. "That's a John line."

She'd never been especially good at the backing off technique. Throwing it to the wind now, Sarah twisted in her seat to get a proper look at Savannah. "A what?"

"John line. The thing about being fine. There's stuff you say to me that I know you've said to him. There's a way you say it. I can always tell."

Sarah frowned. The way _Savannah _was saying things made it hard for Sarah to know what her next words should be. The redhead was going for flat and stoic, doing a fairly good job of it in fact. But there was a hint of something bleeding into Savannah's voice that made Sarah feel the need to apologize for some misdeed. Lacking any knowledge of what that might be, she pressed ahead on the same route of questioning. "If you're embarrassed-"

"You think?"

"Savannah." The right note of sharpness in her tone caused Savannah to finally look at the brunette. When she knew the girl was paying attention, Sarah softened her tone again. "It's Rachel and Ella."

"I know. And I told them."

Sarah shook her head in frustration. "It's fine that you told them. What happened that made you-"

"Bawl all over everybody?"

"Savannah."

Taking a breath, the redhead looked out the window again. "I forgot. Okay? I woke up this morning and I was somewhere else and the first thing I remembered was all the stuff at Funworld and I forgot the rest for a second. Why we were there. And I was happy for a second. Then I remembered everything else and I freaked. All right?"

Sarah closed her eyes at the barely-repressed pain there. She considered reaching back to touch the girl, but doubted she'd get a good reception. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

It was and it wasn't. "If you need to talk-"

"We're talking now. We don't need to talk anymore."

For someone who seemed to resent 'John lines' Savannah was doing a fabulous impression of John at his most evasive. "You can talk to me," Sarah said, recognizing that this too was familiar territory. "You always did before." It wasn't entirely true; Olivia and James both had an easier time with the talking stuff than she did. But the statement was still truer for Savannah than it ever was for John, probably because Sarah hadn't been forced to play military instructor for most of the redhead's life. At least not to the same extent that she had with John. Easier to handle the emotional stuff when the world wasn't in imminent danger of being nuked.

"I'm fine."

"Savannah-"

Suddenly Savannah was looking at her again. She tried to keep her face blank, but her blue eyes blazed like daggers. "Where were you?"

The force behind the redhead's tone made Sarah blink. "What?"

"Where were you this morning that you didn't answer your phone? You _or_ Aunt Liv. Since when do neither of you take your calls?"

Since neither of their cellphone plans included trans-universal calling. But she couldn't say that, because Savannah didn't know about the other world. And even if she had, Sarah still couldn't have said anything because it would involve talk of her being sicker, talk of a treatment that wasn't really a treatment, because she had no plans of getting it. She should've planned an excuse. Why hadn't she planned an excuse? Because she would've had to clear it with Olivia, and the two of them were having serious communication issues.

"Yeah. We can always talk, right?"

Sarah swore to herself. Savannah saw her faltering, and _she_ saw Savannah making connections and conclusions that probably weren't entirely wrong. And there was no discussing the whole truth of it. Sarah was so intent on getting herself out of this that she didn't notice Olivia's approach until the blonde was getting into the truck.

"Hey," Olivia said carefully, surveying the other two from her place behind the wheel. A twitch and a sharp jerk of the head showed that Sarah apparently hadn't been aware of her presence. Abnormal, because sneaking up on the brunette was no easy thing. Savannah meanwhile looked like she was trying not to notice either of the women.

Olivia felt like asking if everything was okay, which clearly it was not. Hoping against hope, her gaze traveled between Sarah and Savannah.

"Can we go home please?" the latter finally asked.

"Yeah," Olivia said quietly, resigned to the fact that she wasn't likely to get a better response.

The two passengers stared out their windows for most of the drive. Olivia considered turning on the radio before deciding that she wasn't willing to risk any depressing music. Or happy music for that matter. Without losing concentration on the road, she fell into a kind of trance, a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts fighting each other in her head. The spell was only broken when Savannah's phone alerted her to a text message. Olivia watched in the rearview mirror, tiny frown lines marring her features because there was something in Savannah's expression that she couldn't read. Despite that uncertainty, Olivia knew somehow that she didn't like it. "Ella bored without you already?"

"No," Savannah replied, busy typing something on her phone screen.

"James?"

"No."

Without meaning to, Sarah snapped a bit as she too concentrated on what Savannah was doing. "You know there are words you can try that have more than one syllable."

"Those words suck," Savannah countered before giving the other two her full attention. "I get texts from people other than Ella and Uncle James," she said, directing the statement at Olivia. To Sarah, "Where do you keep the guestroom stuff?"

"What?"

"You moved some things while I was gone, now I don't know where you keep the guestroom stuff. Towels. Bedspread. That."

It was actually Olivia who rearranged certain items, much to her lover's consternation. "Hall closet. Isn't it a little soon for another sleepover?"

"Sleepover? What am I, five? I thought the guns were in the hall closet."

"The guns are everywhere," Sarah retorted. "The guns are _always _everywhere. The ones in the closet are under the bedspread and the towels. What's going on?"

Savannah took a moment to answer, and didn't quite look at either of them when she did. "John's here. At home. Or he will be in like ten minutes. Originally he was going to surprise you so you couldn't argue with him too much, but apparently he decided that a total surprise would be bad. So he told me to tell you so that you can stroke out a little bit now so it won't be as bad in ten minutes.

"Stroke out?" Olivia repeated, mostly because she couldn't quite deal with a surprise visit from John right now.

"He actually said freak out. _I _said stroke out. So since you're going to do one or both of those things, you might as well start now."

"Did you know he was coming?" Sarah demanded.

"Did he tell me before two seconds ago? No." Savannah shrugged. "I assumed he was, didn't know when."

"You assumed?" Olivia pressed, even though she'd had similar thoughts.

"I told him not to come," said Sarah, teeth gritted in anger.

The redhead shrugged again. "You didn't think he'd ignore you? I thought he'd ignore you. _I _would've ignored you." A pause. "He got a motorcycle six months ago, told me not to tell you. So if you're going to freak out over it you should probably do that now too, before he pulls up in the driveway."


	8. Chapter 8

He didn't hug her, that's what Sarah focused on. They beat John to the brownstone by less than two minutes, were still in the driveway when he came roaring up on the bike. There were greetings. They were awkward at best. Still, he hugged Olivia. It was fast and a little strained, but he did it. He even managed it with Savannah, never mind the long moments during which both of them twisted their hands and shuffled around as if they didn't know what to do with each other. The embrace was there and gone, an odd, one-armed thing that happened almost before Sarah could register it. But it _did _happen.

Not between them though. She could feel Savannah and Olivia waiting, wondering what was happening. So was she. When John didn't step forward to hold her, she mirrored his inaction. It occurred to her then how long it'd been since she'd last seen him. She'd tried to block that out until now. He wore a black leather jacket. That combined with the motorcycle made her think of the second machine, the one he'd formed such an attachment to. Apparently John had been thinking about him as well. He'd let his hair grow out again. Not exactly like it was when he was fifteen, but close. Sarah had gotten in the habit of marking her life in relation to certain milestones, most of them unpleasant. There was the time Before the first machine, and everything that came After. There were the years Before Pescadero, and then there was everything After. John's sixteenth birthday was another marker. John Before Sarkissian, and the person he'd turned into After. On a visceral level, the haircut made some part of her feel better. It was good, the reminder of who he'd been, what their _relationship _had been, before John's hands around Sarkissian's neck snapped that old dynamic in two.

It wasn't enough though. A new hairstyle reminiscent of the old wasn't nearly enough to make Sarah forget. The physical space between them was no longer an issue, but there was time, and there was timing. There was John not holding her and there was the look in his eyes that stopped her from trying to change that.

Eventually the moments of inaction stretched too long. Savannah broke the spell by crossing to the motorcycle, running her eyes and hand over it. "Cool bike."

"Don't even think about it," Sarah warned.

"What?" Savannah asked, doing a lousy job of playing dumb.

"You know what."

Savannah's voice remained casual, but her eyes briefly shot to John before answering. "How old was John before you taught him to ride?"

Dammit. "John learned in the desert. Long, empty stretches of desert. When he crashed the bikes, it didn't matter."

"Thanks, Mom."

Sarah pretended not to hear John's sardonic comment. "City is different. _Icy city streets _are different," she emphasized, directing the last part more at her son than Savannah. Then, to the redhead, "You're not getting on that bike."

"I never said I was," Savannah replied easily enough. "I'd get my own."

After that, Olivia had the good sense to usher everyone inside. John hauled the single duffel he'd brought into the guestroom, Sarah at his heels. At least he still remembered how to travel light. "I told you, you didn't need to come." The words came harsher than Sarah had meant them to, and she closed the door behind her to buy an extra few seconds of not having to face him.

John dropped his bag next to the bed. "Yeah well. You also said that when Uncle Bob and I found you running through a locked-down mental institution. And when Cameron had to bust you out of county lockup."

The unexpected use of Cameron's name did something to her, something Sarah didn't like. What was worse, what made her feel sick for reasons that had nothing to do with chemo pills, she could see that it still affected John as well. Nothing major, just a tic in the jaw as he spoke of the cyborg. There was a bit more stubble on that jaw. He was older now: it'd been years since Cameron went AWOL. But as far as the machine and John's feelings for her, Sarah wondered how much time had really passed. "You quit your job?"

"Captain gave me leave."

"I see. Was this leave permanent?" He shrugged and Sarah shook her head. "John."

"It was a shitty fishing job, Mom. It's not-"

"Watch your mouth."

Too sharp again. For a minute John looked as if she'd slapped him. Then there was a kind of disbelieving half-smile that matched the tone of his voice. "I had my first beer two years ago, Mom. I think I'm allowed to swear now."

"Not in front of me. Or Savannah." Five minutes in and the girl had already played the John card. He didn't need to provide her further ammunition. "And you may've had your first _legal _beer two years ago, but don't pretend I don't know what Enrique and the others were teaching you. Probably why you tipped the bikes so many times."

John blinked repeatedly. Surprise replaced the smile, then his lips curved again. His head dropped and his shoulders started to shake and then he was laughing.

It was Sarah's turn to blink. She experienced the same surprise that'd been on his face, and then that gave way to momentary anger. Then she was smiling too, because she couldn't remember the last time she'd heard him really laugh. That lasted several moments, until Sarah realized John was making an effort to keep his head down, that the trembling in his shoulders had taken on a different quality. "John," she whispered, crossing the few feet of hardwood that separated them.

As soon as she enfolded him in the embrace, she knew why he'd avoided it before. The shaking worsened. He wasn't quite crying, but his breaths came fast and ragged against her shoulder. He clutched at her with a ferocity previously reserved for the times one or the other of them had survived a life or death situation. Which made a depressing amount of sense, given the circumstances. All of a sudden he was trying to pull back, but Sarah wouldn't let him. Partly because they both needed this, partly due to her own need to prove a point. "You're not going to break me, John," she promised, enjoying the fact that she could stroke her hands through his hair again.

She'd tried to put humor in those last words and John nodded understanding, but he still held her as if he expected her to shatter.

Tightening her grip, Sarah continued running one hand through his hair while the other stroked over the tight muscles in his back. She moved with him on the spot, rocking back and forth. "Shhh," she murmured, using soothing nothings to combat the sound of John's harsh breathing as he fought to regain control. Her lips found his cheek, hitting the stubble there. It felt strange, but not wrong. Their reunion coming the way it had, because of this, _that _was wrong. "It's all right," she whispered without caring about the lie. "It's all right."

John nodded again without letting go of her.

* * *

Olivia got through half a cup of coffee and a long round of people watching before Nina Sharp's hand brushed her shoulder in greeting. "Am I early?" the blonde asked as Massive Dynamic's CFO joined her. The restaurant was a favorite, part of their routine. So was the table by the window. Tardiness from the older woman, that threw a wrench in the usual order of things.

"Hardly," Nina replied, gloved hands reaching to fold her napkin over her lap. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Amazing how the whole of Massive Dynamic seems to tear itself apart every time I try to leave the building."

Olivia smiled a bit at that while a waiter appeared. After Nina had given a drink order and taken a menu, "Is it the company that's the problem, or the man who owns it?"

"Oh you'd be surprised. Walter hasn't caused any explosions or chemical leaks in over a month. Though I did have quite a time explaining to the people in accounting why five thousand dollars of company funds went to an Internet retailer that was selling some of the last Twinkies ever made before _that _company filed for bankruptcy."

"He's buying three year-old Twinkies online? I'm surprised he didn't-"

"Purchase the company, get them out of the red, guarantee himself a lifetime supply? Don't think he didn't try. The board of directors never would've allowed it, but of course Walter blamed me. We didn't speak for weeks. Very peaceful weeks, actually," Nina mused, smiling as much as she ever did that. In a more serious tone. "But no. Walter's spent too much time in the lab as of late to cause any damage at Massive Dynamic."

There it was. The opening. The opportunity to discuss why Walter had been away so much recently. Olivia recognized the offer, just as she recognized the lie about Nina's absence. Nothing was accidental or incidental with her. The woman could arrange her workplace crises so that they occurred at a time that worked best for her schedule. She wasn't late unless she wanted to be. She'd given Olivia time to prep for a conversation the blonde still wasn't ready for. So Olivia let the chance go while they ordered and talked of other topics.

The breakfasts were a semi-regular thing that Olivia always looked forward to. Which said a lot, given that she'd spent the first two years of their acquaintance half-sure that Nina Sharp and the company she'd inherited from William Bell were responsible for most or all of the horror shows that Olivia had killed herself investigating. It was a slow, gradual process, but eventually Olivia came to see the older woman as an ally and, more frequently as the years passed, a confidant. The redhead still had her secrets, always would. Olivia had come to accept that, in large part because Nina didn't press when she, Olivia, chose to keep things close to the chest.

Two more cups of coffee came and went, and their plates were almost empty before Olivia felt ready to discuss the things that mattered. "John came back a couple days ago."

"So I've heard," Nina replied, inclining her head slightly.

Olivia wasn't surprised. She'd told Peter, after chewing him out a bit for blindsiding her with the glitch in the transplant plan. Peter probably told Walter, who spoke to Nina quite often when he wasn't angry with her for depriving him of defunct snack cakes. And there was the fact that they all still talked. Nina, Walter, Astrid, James, everyone. They'd spent so much time being forced to communicate, to assure themselves that everyone was still breathing, that they'd never quite fallen out of the habit.

"How long is he planning on staying?"

Olivia shrugged, pushed things around on her plate. "I'm not sure, doesn't seem like he is either. I'd guess until Sarah gets better." Or until she didn't. That thought made Olivia's stomach knot up. "Walter and Peter spoke to you about the Cortexiphan."

"They did, yes."

Olivia smiled a bit again, this time for a different reason. Nina still made her work for things, when the mood suited her. It was equal parts infuriating and reassuring. "So what do you think? You know as much as anyone about what that drug's capable of doing, all the harm it's caused."

"I'd think the more relevant question would be how John and Sarah feel about it."

"Sarah is dead-set against it." A pause. Olivia took a bite of eggs she didn't want anymore, mostly so she could spear something with her fork. "And John doesn't feel anything. He doesn't know."

Surprise showed on the older woman's features. "I can understand postponing the conversation while he was on another coast, but if nothing else, John's return should fix that problem."

"It would," Olivia confirmed, a note of bitterness seeping into her voice. "And that's exactly what Sarah's afraid of." Off Nina's confused frown. "Savannah said something when we first told her about the cancer. She said that Sarah would do whatever it took to save herself, but only if John was the one who asked her."

"And you think she's right."

To a point. "I know she'll never agree to give _him _the Cortexiphan. And with everything I've seen, with what it did to me, I can't even argue that."

"You survived the Cortexiphan trials," Nina pointed out. "You've done things that are truly extraordinary, Olivia."

"I got off easy compared to most of the others," the blonde countered, even as some part of her warmed at the compliment. Nina didn't offer praise lightly. "And Sarah wants more for him than just survival. I can't argue with that either."

The older woman nodded in reply. "And having Sarah be the only one to receive the dosing, she's still against that as well?"

"Yes. But that's the option that I think John could sway her on. And she knows it too. Which is why John knows nothing about any of this."

"I Imagine that's causing some tension."

"You could say that," Olivia acknowledged, stabbing her knife through a piece of French toast without taking a bite.

"Does it bother you?"

Olivia had to stop mutilating her breakfast, figure out what the redhead was asking. "No. It doesn't bother me that she loves John more than me, that he has more influence in certain ways. That's how it's supposed to work. It's everything else that's…"

Olivia trailed off and Nina reached out a gloved hand, briefly squeezing the younger woman's forearm. "But you agree that her concerns about John's identity being compromised, the possible effects of the drug, you think those are legitimate."

"I do think they're legitimate," Olivia confirmed. "I also think that in this situation we have to prioritize our concerns, and she's not doing that." The frustration was bleeding through again, and Olivia fought to control it. "I know she has reasons to be worried. _I'm _worried. But she's using possible eventualities as excuses and ignoring the one thing that's certain here." The Cortexiphan could cause problems, but Sarah would die without it. Olivia felt like Peter punched her in the gut when he first said that, but it didn't make him wrong.

"Excuses," Nina mused. "That's an interesting word choice."

"It's nothing," Olivia denied, even though it was. It might be everything, the core of the issue. She didn't think Sarah was lying about her fears, nor did she think the brunette was being totally truthful. Olivia had accused her of hiding something when they first argued about the Cortexiphan before crossing the Bridge. Just as she wasn't good at lying to Sarah, Sarah did a poor job of deceiving her. At least of doing it without notice.

"Well. Frustrating as it must be right now, I thought one of the things that attracted you to Sarah was her ability to challenge you. And I've seen you two hit impasses before. You've always managed to get around them."

"I don't have time to be challenged anymore," Olivia admitted, the barest hint of a crack in her voice. "_Sarah _doesn't." She'd spent years worming her way in, peeling back the complexities of Sarah's mind and heart, and she still wasn't anywhere close to through. She'd thought there'd be years more but there wouldn't. Not if she didn't figure out the problem that was keeping them from action _now_. As for Nina's other comment, "It was different then. We were saving the world. Allof us. When we disagreed on how to do that there had to be at least some consensus. It wasn't all down to Sarah and I."

"No," Nina acknowledged, a hint of wryness entering her tone. "You two were just the ones yelling the loudest during our disagreements. Still, we managed. _You two _managed."

The blonde wiped her mouth needlessly, attempting to cover a blush. Most of their agreements had come after a healthy round of anger sex, after they'd tired each other out enough to make compromise easier. If Nina only knew about what had occurred in the beds…and up against most of the walls, of her building. A glance her way gave Olivia the alarming thought that Nina knew what she was thinking, what she'd _done_. Nina's possible awareness of their activities probably would've turned Olivia away from sex for a time, if that hadn't already happened. The anger fucking as a solution generator wasn't even an option at the moment, given her response when they last tried, after the amusement park. "You never answered my question," said Olivia, desperate to change the subject, and the direction her thoughts had taken. "What do _you _think about the Cortexiphan idea?"

Nina took a moment to reply, choosing her words carefully, as always. "There are risks, yes. But I agree that those risks seem preferable to the alternative."

"Even knowing what you do about me, the rest of the kids from those trials?"

"I think," said Nina, looking briefly at the glove that hid her right arm, the robotics beneath the synthetic skin, "that Walter will spend the rest of his life trying to atone for what he's done. To the world yes, but most of all to us. You and I. Peter, obviously. That includes the trials in Jacksonville. I believe those trials ended as badly as they did in part because the man conducting them didn't care about the risks we've talked about. Walter is a different man, we both know that. I don't know that he'll ever forgive himself for the acts of that other person, even if we all do. Even if he helped save the world. What I _am _certain of is that he will do everything he can to minimize the dangers to Sarah. The last thing he wants is to see you hurt again. And neither does Peter. If it's necessary, he'll help rein Walter in. He's got his own sins to make up for where you're concerned."

"I'm not angry with Peter anymore," Olivia responded, trying not to remember Henry Dunham's face on that phone screen.

If she suspected a lie, Nina didn't call the blonde on it. "Even so. Peter has more in common with Walter than he'd like to think. He'll keep trying to make it up to you, whether you think it necessary or not. Which means you'd be hard-pressed to find two men who would work harder to keep Sarah safe."

Olivia couldn't argue with any of that. "And the 40/60 success rate? Because not even John will convince Sarah that he should get the Cortexiphan. Meaning we'd have a better chance of losing than winning." Losing _Sarah._

"True. But you two have beaten worse odds. Much worse. Together and separately."

Olivia smiled. Genuinely. For the first time in days. "Thank you, Nina."

"You're welcome," the redhead replied with equal sincerity. Then, in a different tone, "And if you can't budge Sarah on the Cortexiphan issue, perhaps you could tell her that I agree with her about not having the procedure. It might be enough to convince her that the transplant is a good idea."

Olivia laughed. Really laughed. Again, for the first time in days. Nina wasn't that far off the mark. The red hair, the company that was too big for words, the robotic hand. Despite all the help she'd given, everything they'd been through, on the most instinctual of levels, Nina Sharp reminded Sarah of Catherine Weaver. Which meant that Nina's endorsement might actually do something to push her in the other direction.

* * *

"Staring out the window until she gets home won't make Aunt Liv show up any faster," Savannah observed mildly.

Turning her eyes away from said window, Sarah set them on the redhead. Savannah occupied a spot on the couch, with a book in her hand and a foot resting lightly against the edge of the coffee table. Crossing the space between them, Sarah took a seat on the arm of the sofa. "Off," she ordered, lightly smacking Savannah's knee. Once her foot was back on the floor, "I wasn't staring."

Savannah shrugged, denying the statement without doing so verbally. "It's the robot arm isn't it?"

"What?"

"Why you don't like Nina. It's the robot arm."

"I like Nina fine," Sarah argued, only half-lying. She was doing better than she had anyway. A few years back, she'd seriously considered slicing Nina's other arm open to assure herself that everything else was human, but she'd finally let Olivia talk her out of that one.

"She's not that bad you know, and it's just an arm."

"I never said she was." It wasn't just the hand, and Sarah was fairly sure the girl knew that. But Savannah never talked of the thing that had masqueraded as Catherine Weaver, and it wasn't a subject on which Sarah herself wished to dwell. "Anyway I know this might be hard for you to believe, but there are people in this world who aren't used to seeing robot arms."

"Yeah," Savannah acknowledged, "but you're not one of those people."

"Sadly no," Sarah agreed with a rueful half-smile.

Savannah returned the look, in a less melancholy way. "Last time Aunt Liv took me to Massive Dynamic, that Brandon guy said he was working on a way to turn pinecones into explosive devices."

"Terrific," Sarah drawled. "Good to know Massive Dynamic's out there spending their money wisely, looking for ways to better the world."

"You use my closet to store C-4 when I'm staying with Uncle James."

"Touché."

They were smiling. Both of them. Didn't happen enough anymore. Then the floorboard that'd been a problem since they got the place creaked, breaking the moment. Sarah looked up to find John watching them, an unreadable look on his face. A quick glance the other way told her Savannah had gone blank as well. Then the redhead hid her face behind her book and there was no telling anymore. "Hey," Sarah greeted.

"Hey. Sorry." John had his shoes and jacket on and his hands went to his pockets.

"What for?" Savannah asked. The tone was pleasant enough, but she was still feigning renewed interest in her reading, avoiding eye contact with either of the Connors.

John shrugged. Then there was an awkward silence that Sarah got very sick of very fast. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"Nowhere," John replied, heading toward the back door as he said it. "Just out. Air. Nowhere." He was outside with the door shut before Sarah could form a response.

Savannah lasted an extra ten seconds before she too was closing her book and getting up. "Where are _you _going?" Sarah asked, barely resisting the urge to throw up her hands.

"Nowhere," Savannah replied already heading down the hallway John had just come from. "My room. Book's boring and I left my IPod in there so…"

That was as much as Sarah got before Savannah had disappeared around the corner, the sounds of the old floorboard and her closing door marking the redhead's departure.

Left alone, Sarah released a deep sigh. Getting up only long enough to take the space Savannah had vacated, Sarah leaned her head back against the couch cushions, closing her eyes and rubbing at her forehead. At one time, Savannah had had an easier time talking to John than she did Sarah. The kid had run into his arms at the Weaver house and afterward he'd at least made attempts to comfort her, while Sarah was still reeling from the double loss of Charley and Derek and trying to figure out what the hell to do with the child she'd just taken. It was never supposed to be like this, Savannah staying, becoming what she had to Sarah and Olivia. But it happened, and as soon as the dynamic between Sarah and Savannah changed shape, so too did the one between Savannah and John. John had grown up with almost literally all of her attention, and Sarah hadn't planned for things to ever be any different, so of course the change jarred him. And Savannah…Savannah always measured herself against John, despite the endless list of circumstantial differences which made that a useless comparison. And none of it was ever fixed because John headed for the hills almost as soon as the coast was clear. Sarah always knew he would. Foreknowledge didn't make it hurt any less.

The buzzing of her cell yanked Sarah from painful thoughts. Pulling the phone from her pocket and checking the screen, she answered the call, giving half of the date in place of a hello.

"2015," James Ellison replied, supplying his part of the code. "Is there a problem?"

"Is there?" Sarah replied. "You called me."

"I did," James acknowledged. "Just been awhile since we used the codes."

"Doesn't mean we won't have to use them again. Just keeping you on your toes," Sarah countered. The hint of a smile pulled at her lips. He'd replied instantly, no confusion or hesitation when she resurrected the old routine. That was good. "So. _Is _there a problem?"

"Not on my end, no. Thought I'd see how everyone's doing."

"You're checking up on me. I told you I'd call if I needed anything."

"I know. You were lying."

She didn't contradict him. "We can deal. _I _can deal. I'll call you if I need backup."

"Interesting. Because the last time you said that, you _didn't _call, and I found you bleeding to death in an alley in Van Nuys."

"We agreed not to talk about Van Nuys again."

"Did we? As I recall, you _started_ to order me not to talk about it. Then Felicia had to give you more morphine, and you passed out."

"Like I said," Sarah retorted, "An agreement. How are you?"

"Better than I was in Van Nuys. You, Sarah?"

"Better than I was in Van Nuys."

"I'd say so. You're conscious this time."

He didn't ask how she was again. Not verbally, because he didn't need to. And since she'd provided the opening, since she'd stopped thinking about killing him a long time ago, Sarah decided to give a somewhat honest answer. "I'm surviving. John's back."

"I've heard."

"Savannah tell you?"

"Peter, actually."

Fuck. "Has Savannah talked to you since she found out?" Before he could answer, "I don't care if she's sworn you to secrecy like she always does, I don't need specifics. Just tell me she's spoken to you about what's happening with her."

"Wish I could," James replied, apology and concern in his voice. "She hasn't. I've tried calling but since she got back to you…"

Dammit. "You think you could try a little harder?" Sarah asked, without insult or condescension.

"I could. How's she been?"

Sarah shook her head, rubbing at her temple again. "She never gets away from it," the brunette admitted while giving internal acknowledgment that that was her fault. Savannah was like John in at least one respect, the home-schooling. Part of the reasoning involved the custody arrangement with James, the hassles of a false identity at two separate schools. A lot of it was Sarah and her paranoia and her recollections of what happened at John's school in New Mexico. "She's here all the time, and I'm here and I'm…" Dying. "She never gets away from it," Sarah repeated, rather than voicing the other thing. "We tried something the other day and it didn't work. And she's…."

"What?" James prodded carefully.

"She's shutting down," Sarah finished, hating herself for having to admit it. But Savannah's well-being trumped her usual reluctance to ask Ellison for an assist. "She's blocking me, she's blocking Olivia, and apparently she's doing the same to you." Usually Olivia or James could get through to the kid, even when she was being stubborn with Sarah. The brunette knew this well, because Savannah had been stubborn with her quite often in the past. "She's starting to do what John did. After Sarkissian. After Cromartie killed your team. And she can't do that. It can't happen again." In some ways, Sarah worried more about that possibility than she did about the cancer cells that were eating away at her even as they spoke.

"I'll talk to her."

"Thanks."

"So. You're admitting you need something. Does that mean she's stopped talking to you altogether?"

"No." Leaving the couch, Sarah made her way into the kitchen. The windows there offered a view of the backyard, of John pacing the length of that space, looking lost as he did it. "Not altogether. But when John's here she tends to think that he takes up all the air in the room."

A pause. "Is she wrong?"

"That's not fair," Sarah retorted, hackles instantly going up.

"No," James agreed, calm as ever. "But how much about this situation can really be called fair?"

Quick as they'd been raised, her defenses crumbled. Releasing a noiseless sigh, Sarah continued watching John. It was winter in Boston and a light snow was starting to fall, peppering him with flecks of white. She'd never been good at splitting her focus where he was concerned. Countless other skills she'd mastered, but never that. "Talk to Savannah when you can."

"I told you I would. Is this your subtle way of getting me off the phone?"

"I'll call you soon."

"No you won't."

Sarah smiled a bit, without meaning to. "I'll pretend not to notice when Olivia calls you and you two talk about me like I don't know what you're doing."

Ellison chuckled at that. "Fair enough."

* * *

John had gone still by the time Sarah retrieved her coat to meet him outside. He sat on the edge of the back stoop and Sarah half-glared when he reached out a hand and opened his mouth as she joined him. "I got it, John," she said, forcing her voice to stay even. The overprotectiveness on everyone's part made her insane, but he'd just arrived, so it wasn't fair to read him the riot act. Yet.

"It's cold, Mom. Should you be-"

"Relax," she interrupted, taking the space next to him and rejecting the offer of help. "I'm not the boy in the plastic bubble, doctors say it's okay for me to leave the house occasionally. Off John's confused frown, "Never mind. Just me aging myself."

They fell quiet for a moment, watching as the yard was slowly covered in white. Sarah snuck occasional glances at her son, feeling vaguely guilty as she did it. John and Savannah were both struggling, and she'd made a choice about who to go to. If the redhead knew she was out here, she doubted it would ease Savannah's fears about being second to John. But James would try with Savannah, achieve some success eventually. He always did. And if he didn't then Olivia would tag in and make her own attempt. John didn't have those connections with either of them. He cared certainly. It was impossible for any of them not to care about each other after the battles they'd fought together. But caring didn't necessarily mean opening up. Olivia wanting to vent to Nina Sharp was fine, but Sarah couldn't imagine a day when she'd be doing the same. John wasn't likely to air his feelings with James, Olivia, any of their group. Him doing it with Sarah, even that was a toss-up, but the odds were better. So Sarah rationalized her decision and tried not to feel like she was choosing one kid over the other. John didn't have the same support system as Savannah. The only person he'd ever really talked to about the important stuff was her.

And Cameron. He'd talked to her, too.

"What are you thinking about?" Sarah asked, because she really needed to know. And because she needed to turn her own mind elsewhere.

John didn't answer immediately. He wrung his hands and stared off into nothing for a few seconds more before turning his green eyes to hers. "Charley. That Christmas in Nebraska, first one we had where it actually snowed."

She thought he was lying, but only partially, so she let it go. "That was a great Christmas."

"Yeah," John agreed, a smile pulling at his lips. "That day you came home from the diner, few days before Christmas Eve I think. Charley was shoveling and he threw that snowball at you when your back was turned. I thought you were going to draw on him for a minute there."

"For a minute there I probably _was _going to draw on him," Sarah replied, recalling her initial go-for-the-gun reaction. Something warm and sharp and bittersweet pulled at her as she remembered Charley Dixon. It was a familiar feeling. She still missed him, still missed Kyle. Just as she knew Olivia still ached for John Scott sometimes. The pain never disappeared. She hadn't wanted Olivia to have to face that again.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here last Christmas," John blurted suddenly.

"John," Sarah retorted in a tone that meant stop. She was battling self-reproach again, a different kind this time. She couldn't handle his guilt as well.

"Or the year before," he continued as if she hadn't spoken.

Sarah got the feeling that he'd been dying to say this for at least the last two days. "John," she repeated a tad more forcefully. She couldn't tell him it was okay, didn't trust in her ability to lie to his face right now.

"I screwed up, Mom. I didn't-"

"I'm not on my deathbed yet, John. We can save the wasted time speeches for a little while." She regretted the words before they finished leaving her mouth, but there was no returning them.

"That's _not _what it is," John argued. His voice was sharp and wounded at the same time. He turned his head away as though he was recovering from a blow.

"I'm sorry." She felt like touching him, but he'd gone almost rigid, and the hand he'd suddenly clamped on his knee was close to the falling snow in color.

For long moments, all John did was breathe. The exhales were harsh and shuddering. "I was going to come back before," he declared, finally looking at her again. "Before you told me about the cancer. I was going to come back anyway. I was still trying to…I didn't know how."

"What do you mean?"

John bit his lip, shaking his head. "Mom it's not…we need to talk about you. Not this."

"You brought it up, means you want to talk about it. So talk."

"Mom-"

"I can't deal with the other stuff right now, John. It's been nothing but the other stuff for weeks. Now it needs to be something else." It felt strange, admitting that to him. Talking to him as someone other than his mother. Acknowledging that she wasn't invincible. She'd done it a few times before, and it had yet to get any easier. Judging by the look on his face, John was having similar thoughts.

"It can't always be about me, Mom."

"No, it can't. It needs to be right now. For _me_, it needs to be."

John ducked his head, running rough fingers through his hair and displacing the snowflakes that had come to rest there. "I used to think about what it would be like when it was all finished. Skynet, the machines. When we stopped it for real and I could stop running from it. It's what I wanted more than anything, for so long."

"I know that. I wanted the same thing."

John released a wry chuckle. "I know. You just didn't bitch about it all the time like I did."

She didn't scold him for swearing this time. "You were a kid."

"And so were you, practically. When Kyle showed up, when it all started. You dealt with it. And you don't need to keep making excuses for me." Sarah tried to protest and John shook his head, pushing on before she could interrupt. "I wanted it done. Over. More than anything else. I thought that once it was, I could stop running. From the machines, from who I was supposed to be, from all of it. And I stupidly thought that once it was over, that I could live like everyone else and have it all be fine. And then it happened. We stopped it and it was supposed to be over but it didn't feel that way. In a lot of ways everything felt the same as it always had."

He was talking in vague terms, but Sarah didn't need clarification. The nightmares, the feeling of literally being under the gun. It was all so ingrained that it was like part of the Connor DNA by now. It didn't magically fall away, even when the sun rose and fell on Judgment Day.

"I didn't know how to deal, okay? I always thought that stopping Skynet once and for all would fix everything that'd been eating at me all that time but it didn't. And I was out of ideas on how to fix it."

"So you ran." There was no need to comment on the bitter irony.

"It's all I knew how to do. What I always did. What _we_ always did."

There was no accusation there, but Sarah still felt a sting. She'd taught him all she could and it never seemed to be enough. She'd taught him how to prepare for Judgment Day, how to survive after it happened. She hadn't had enough time (or if she were honest, enough hope), to teach him how to keep living if it _didn't _happen.

"I thought if I was out of L.A, away from things that reminded me of everything that we lost, that I could start over."

"And I was included. In that list of things you needed away from." It wasn't a lot, the hurt that bled into her voice, but it was enough.

"Yes." He sounded pained by the admission, but his tone was relatively steady, and he kept eye contact with her. "I'm sorry."

"I get you needing your own life," Sarah replied, anger mixing with the hurt. "That's what I wanted for you. You running that _far_, that's where I had problems." She wasn't quite saying what she meant. It wasn't about distance. It was about him cutting her out as much as he could without complete disappearance. It was about him missing Christmas for the last few years, only in a grander sense.

"I know. But we never…we started over all the time. And once we did we never went back. New names, new passports, everything. I went back to Mexico with Riley and Cromartie showed up. We went back to Charley and he died because of it."

The Cromartie example didn't exactly hold up, but Sarah got his point. She hadn't wiped the slate completely in New Mexico either, hadn't changed their aliases after leaving Nebraska. And then Cromartie was in John Reese's classroom. The fact that Cameron had been right, that he would've found them anyway, that hardly helped.

"I didn't know how to restart without trying to erase everything else. I'm not saying it makes sense."

"It makes sense." John gave her a dubious look and Sarah cracked a sad smile. "It makes sense for _us_, as much as anything ever has." The smile disappeared, along with any lightness in her voice. "So what changed now?" Aside from the cancer, which apparently wasn't the main factor of John's return.

"Nothing. That's the point. None of the bad stuff was going away and I was…I was missing out on all the good." He held her gaze on that remark, held it until she nodded, signaling understanding. "I was tired of running. I _am _tired of it. Not like before, when I was pissing and moaning and asking you to save me from everything. You can't. And it's not going away. I keep trying to make that happen but it doesn't. And if it's not going to, no matter how far I run, then I might as well stop. I missed you, Mom. And I can't keep…I'm tired."

She wanted to tell him that it _would _go away, the weight that threatened to crush him. Technically she supposed it fell under the umbrella of PTSD, but that term didn't seem to encompass the magnitude of everything they'd all been through, the deepness of the scars. She wanted to tell him that it would all go away. But she couldn't, because it hadn't disappeared for her either. The morning she found out about the cancer, she'd slipped out of a warm bed and away from the woman she loved because she still wasn't quite convinced that the sun would rise to light the sky, as opposed to the blinding nuclear holocaust she'd always dreamt of. In so many ways, nothing felt new or clean. Not a fresh start, just borrowed time. And that was _before _the cancer was a certainty, before she realized how literal that metaphor was for her.

She couldn't soothe it all away, couldn't promise John that the wounds would eventually stop hurting. His hand was still clenched tight over his knee. Sarah covered it with hers, rubbing away the chill of winter on his skin. She touched his cheek with her other palm and when he didn't fight the contact, she moved that hand to the back of his head, pulling gently. "I know." She murmured the words against his forehead, keeping her lips there as she stroked his hair. "I know," she repeated, offering understanding because it was all she had to give.

* * *

John and Savannah took the first opportunity they had to flee. Sarah had exited to her bedroom long enough to add a blue and gray flannel overshirt to her jeans and black tank top ensemble. The flannel wasn't her normal look of choice. But she had yet to fully adapt to Boston winters, and the shirt was comfortable, warm as hell. There was that, and there was Olivia's unexpected fondness for flannel. They'd argued for the last few years over whether it went deep enough to qualify as a fetish.

On this particular night, Olivia barely looked up as Sarah rejoined them. But she _did _look up, and the brunette saw a glint in her lover's eye that gave her some hope and brought on a small smirk. Which quickly disappeared when she noticed that John was once again dressed to go outside. Savannah too this time. They must've escaped to their rooms when she went to change. "Going somewhere? Dinner's almost ready." In truth, Sarah wasn't particularly sure of that. She wasn't even certain about what Olivia had on the menu tonight. She'd seen the blonde bashing something with a mallet earlier, with a disturbing amount of repetition. There was also a meat cleaver in the sink. Currently Olivia was behind the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables which she seemed to have been working on for a very long time.

Well, Sarah took apart guns in times of stress, and her lover apparently developed an uncharacteristic fondness for knives. It would be charming if it weren't mildly terrifying.

"Yeah, sorry," Savannah offered, eyes drifting briefly in the direction of the discarded meat cleaver. "We're…we're really not hungry. Either of us. So we're going to catch a movie."

"You're not hungry," Sarah repeated dubiously. "Either of you. Fine then. You can sit at the table and watch _us _eat."

"Sarah," Olivia said from the kitchen. "They've been here with us for two days. Cut them some slack."

Cut them some slack. Interesting word choice. Olivia's knife hand had never stopped moving as she spoke. "You have schoolwork to finish," Sarah told Savannah, knowing it was useless. The kid was almost too smart for her own good, after a childhood spent with Walter, Peter and Nina. The assignments would get done with the same level of quality, whether it happened tonight or tomorrow.

"We'll make it a short movie," John promised.

Sarah sighed, barely keeping herself from an eye roll as she walked to the coffee table and grabbed the truck keys. "Not on the bike," she said, tossing them to her son. "Don't be too late."

They promised they wouldn't, and then they practically ran out the door. She wanted to say that they were being rude and cowardly, but she couldn't blame them for wanting out of the pressure cooker that'd been building for the last two days. All she could do was curse to herself and envy them their ability to escape.

"Interesting isn't it?" Sarah asked, making her way into the kitchen. "John tells Savannah about the motorcycle. Every time I turn around he seems to have told her another story showcasing my stellar parenting skills. I'm starting to think he's talked to her more than he's talked to me over the last few years, and they're apparently fine running off to a movie together. And then they're together here, and I'm lucky if I can get them to look each other in the eye."

Olivia had on a black apron over her clothes. Sarah thought she might've intended to bake something earlier, before she got distracted with her cutting tools. The blonde put the knife down now, but only long enough to wring her fingers together and wipe her hands needlessly against the apron. "Generally I think they're fine with each other. It's only where you're concerned that they seem to have a problem."

Them or Olivia? Sarah wasn't sure if it was meant to be a dig, or if it was just that everything the other woman said dripped of passive aggressiveness now. They'd gone back and forth every spare moment for the last two days about the Cortexiphan, about telling John. At this point Olivia seemed to have temporarily foregone the arguing in favor of a false and very thinly-veiled politeness that threatened to drive Sarah insane.

Slowly, Sarah circled behind the counter, behind Olivia. The blonde wore one of her standard white work shirts under the apron, but it was un-tucked tonight. The black suit pants that usually completed the outfit were replaced by a pair of sweats. Normally she would be parading around the house in shorts and t-shirt, a pleasantly torturous way of mocking Sarah for her comparatively low cold tolerance. Sarah wanted to think that she wasn't doing so tonight only because they had company, but wasn't foolish enough to actually believe that. Very conscious of the knife Olivia had picked up again, Sarah rested a hand on the blonde's back, feeling both the soft material of the shirt, and the frustration rolling off of Olivia. It was so thick and so strong that it was almost a physical thing. "Hey," Sarah said quietly, hoping the tenderness behind her voice and touch would do something to counteract the stiffness in Olivia's muscles.

Olivia didn't answer, but she didn't shrug the contact off either. The knife stayed in her hand, but stopped moving. Taking what encouragement she could get, Sarah steeped closer, letting her hand drift upward until it found Olivia's shoulder. Wordlessly, she began kneading away the tension there. When Olivia offered no resistance, Sarah brought her other hand up so she could work on both shoulder blades

Olivia sighed, leaning more heavily against the counter as Sarah continued her ministrations. She wasn't sure she should be giving in to this, but she lacked the will or the energy to put up any sort of fight. Sarah pushed her hair to one side, hands shifting from shoulders to neck. She had a few more seconds of relief from the weeks' worth of stress that had taken root in her body, and then Sarah hit a particularly tight cluster of muscles. Olivia sucked in air and released an involuntary wince.

"Sorry," Sarah whispered, easing up and soothing away the pain with lighter touches. She wasn't just apologizing for that, and they both knew it. There might have been the barest hint of a nod, but Sarah wasn't certain. Erring on the side of optimism for once, she stepped closer, stopping only when her chest was against the blonde's back. One of her hands went lower, encircling a trim waist. The other slid from Olivia's shoulder, down the length of her arm. She paused at the wrist. The hand she was holding was also the one gripping the knife. Sarah tapped the blonde's fingers twice. "Gimme."

Olivia fought back a shudder. Sarah's chin was to her shoulder, the other woman's breath tickling her earlobe. "I have to… Dinner. Vegetables." When the brunette used that tone, Olivia tended to lose her ability to speak in full sentences.

Sarah's lips found the back of Olivia's neck, kissing the spot where she'd caused pain before. "John and Savannah are going to gorge on theater crap or fast food before they come home. And I'm not that hungry. Also, I think you've got the vegetable front covered. Chopped enough carrots to get us through the next apocalypse."

"You're not funny." The words were negated by the small chuckle that passed through Olivia's body.

"And yet you laugh," Sarah replied, kissing the back of Olivia's neck again and cursing the shirt that kept her from going further. "Gimme," she repeated, lightly squeezing Olivia's hand. Softening her tone and bringing her mouth back to the blonde's ear. "Let it go for awhile. Please."

Olivia sagged a bit, relinquishing her hold on the knife and symbolically laying down her sword. She let Sarah take it from her, then missed the other woman's warmth as the brunette went to drop it in the sink. "Turn the oven off?" she quietly requested. She closed her eyes, listening to the familiar sound of Sarah's light, sure steps. Then the brunette was there again, both arms encircling Olivia's waist. The blonde leaned back into Sarah without caring that she was essentially throwing up the white flag, at least for this round. "Thanks."

Sarah kissed Olivia's cheek. "Thanks yourself." Nothing was over, but at least the other woman had accepted her call for a time-out. Putting her chin to Olivia's shoulder again, Sarah breathed in the familiar scent of her lover.

Olivia wasn't sure how long they stood there. All she knew was that Sarah was holding her, they were close enough that she could hear and feel the other woman breathing. It was slow and steady and _there_, and Olivia made herself focus on it, made herself forget about the worsened prognosis, the time crunch they were in. The fact that the biggest obstacle to Sarah getting better seemed to be Sarah herself. Eventually, Olivia started following the rhythm of Sarah's breaths, matching it herself until she felt more of the tension leeching out.

Noting the change in Olivia's body, Sarah shifted her hands again. With deliberate slowness, she pulled at the knot of the blonde's apron, using one hand to toy with the string and the other to draw soft circles on Olivia's lower back.

Olivia shivered, gripping harder at the edge of the counter. It was just like Sarah to get her utterly relaxed and then do _this _to her. Olivia turned her head, to address the other woman. Whether she meant to tell her to stop or to keep going, Olivia wasn't sure and never got the chance to find out. When she turned her head, Sarah was ready for it, and Olivia ended up kissing the corner of her lover's mouth. It wasn't much, barely anything. But she'd already been keyed up as hell the last time they tried making love, and that was before she'd had to beg Sarah to stop right in the middle of it.

Olivia whimpered as their lips brushed, and the sound broke something in Sarah, whatever it was that held her last vestige of control. She hadn't forgotten what happened after the amusement park, and in some ways, that had been bothering her more than anything else. Timing might not be great, but with John here, there was no telling when they'd get another chance. There was also the eventual deterioration of her health to consider, but Sarah refused to do that now. Instead, she removed the apron, tossing it carelessly to the tile floor. "Turn around."

Suddenly very much aware of Sarah's breasts pressing against her back, Olivia did as instructed. When she did, Sarah's lips crashed into hers and Olivia tangled her hands in the other woman's hair. Sarah's hands were on her hips now. They rubbed circles, same as they had on Olivia's back. And then Sarah's fingers slipped inside the waistband of her sweatpants, causing Olivia to gasp and pull away from the kiss.

Sarah moved quickly, needing confirmation of something. She already knew, but thoroughness had become habit. Her fingers found the area between Olivia's thighs, pressing against it through lacy underwear. If the moist heat wasn't enough, Olivia gasping and jerking against her would've given Sarah all the answer she needed. Last barrier of uncertainty removed, Sarah slipped her hands out of Olivia's sweats, ignoring the moan of protest. Leaning in close, Sarah kissed and sucked at the skin of Olivia's neck before taking the blonde's earlobe in her mouth and swirling her tongue against it. "Hang on to me."

"I am."

Sarah couldn't help chuckling. "Tighter."

Olivia listened automatically before the haze of arousal cleared enough for her to worry about where this was going. She had half a second to be concerned, but no time to act.

Sarah lifted Olivia off the ground. She took a moment to move a few steps to the right, so as not to set her girlfriend down in a pile of chopped vegetables. Though at this point she doubted that such a setback would slow her down much.

"Sarah, be careful. Don't hurt-." The words were pointless; Olivia was already sitting on the edge of the counter.

"Liv."

"What?"

"Please shut up." Sarah kissed her hard, taking away any choice Olivia had in the matter. Cupping the back of her neck with one hand, Sarah ran the other over the inner portion of Olivia's right thigh. Smirking at the reflexive parting of Olivia's legs, Sarah stepped into the space between them. The sweats had a drawstring and Sarah thought about doing something with that before realizing she didn't want to spend the extra time. Soon, but not yet. For now she slipped her fingers back inside the pants, underwear too this time.

Olivia half gasped, half whimpered when Sarah touched her. Her hands tightened convulsively against the soft material of the flannel, and she buried her head against Sarah's shoulder. The shirt smelled of her, and Olivia inhaled deeply. Sarah was drawing circles again, tighter and faster. On her clit instead of her back. A brief flash of coherent thought broke in, and Olivia dropped one hand to the counter again, keeping the other on Sarah's shoulder. She didn't want to clutch too hard.

Sarah fought a combination of warmth and annoyance at Olivia's continued protectiveness. Nipping at the other woman's neck, she enjoyed the frenzied beat of the pulse point there. Olivia pushed herself closer even as she eased up on her grip, and Sarah redoubled her efforts to finish what she'd started the other night.

Olivia tossed her head from side to side, unable to control her reactions. She was sitting down, but it still felt like she was spinning out. Her hand slid on the marble countertop. She was gripping it tight enough to hurt and it still wasn't enough. When Sarah's free hand went to her thigh again, the blonde had to give up on caution. Her legs went around Sarah's waist, locking the brunette in place. Both arms clutched at Sarah's neck and shoulders. Olivia kissed the other woman roughly, attempting to stifle her moans against Sarah's mouth. She was as close as she'd been last time, and for a moment she panicked. But she could handle this, she was almost sure of it. This was Nina's penthouse all over again, a quick release of anger and tension. She could handle this without having to face the emotional stuff. As soon as she'd reassured herself of that, she crashed against Sarah's fingers, clinging desperately to the brunette. Sarah was responsible for the storm raging through her body, but Olivia still needed the woman to help her ride it out.

Sarah held Olivia through the spasms, running a hand over her back until she was relatively calm again. Olivia's grip on her loosened, but the blonde kept her head buried in the place between Sarah's neck and shoulder, dropping gentle kisses to the skin there. Sarah slipped her hand out of Olivia's sweats, feeling another tremor pass through the woman's body. The muscles in Olivia's thighs relaxed, granting Sarah freedom to move if she wanted to. She didn't, choosing instead to stroke Olivia's hair, reveling in its familiar comfort. She waited for Olivia to pull back some before joining their mouths in a soft, thorough kiss.

Olivia smiled against Sarah's lips as the contact broke, leaning her forehead against the brunette's. She'd finally started to relax again when Sarah's next words shattered any calmness that was building.

"Come with me," Sarah said, threading her fingers together with Olivia's and pulling gently to urge her off the counter.

Olivia was back to panicking. That tone left no doubt about Sarah's intentions. She could handle what they'd just done. It was too fast and too much about other things for her to get caught up in an emotional wave that would be stronger than the physical one. But Sarah's voice was signifying something else now. Trying to cover her fears, Olivia combed gentle fingers through dark hair, dropping a kiss on Sarah's forehead. "Pretty sure I just did," she said with a chuckle that hopefully didn't sound forced.

"Only pretty sure?" Sarah asked. "Have to fix that then."

The brunette was pulling at her hand again and Olivia's sense of panic was worsening by the second. Most of her blood supply was still concentrated in places other than her brain, so she couldn't even formulate a half-decent excuse. "You must be tired," she said instead. The words hung between them in the otherwise-silent kitchen and Olivia watched them take their horrible effect on Sarah. The brunette looked more blatantly hurt than Olivia could ever remember seeing. She wasn't even trying to hide it behind the usual mask of stoicism. "You don't need to do this," Olivia said desperately, repeating her words from last time. "You don't owe me anything." Predictably, things only got worse from there.

Dropping the blonde's hand as if it had scalded her, Sarah crossed to the other side of the kitchen, putting her back to Olivia. Pausing, she paced back the other way, realized that she couldn't look at Olivia when she tried, and ended up stopping a few steps away from her, back still turned. . "Listen," Sarah began in a carefully monitored tone. "I'm not looking my best ever since the chemo started, we both know that. So why don't you just admit it and we can-"

"No, we _don't _know that. You can't think that that's what it is." It was so ridiculous, Sarah Connor being self-conscious about her looks.

Sarah pivoted on her heel, looking Olivia dead in the eyes. "Well then you explain it to me, Liv. Tell me what I'm supposed to think."

Olivia grimaced, closing her eyes. Sarah didn't use the shortened version of her name nearly as often as everyone else. She'd never done it in a moment of anger before. Olivia slid off of the counter, but she was still shaky from what they just did, and her legs trembled a bit as she stood. Sarah didn't offer to help. "It's…" Inability to express herself wasn't a familiar problem, but she didn't know how to articulate the issue without sounding weak and absurd. "I can't…lose control that way right now. It'll be too much and I can't…"

Sarah's eyebrows rose toward her hairline. "I must be missing something here. I thought that losing control and feeling too much was sort of the point."

Olivia shook her head helplessly, struggling for an explanation that made sense outside of her own head. "I told you before we crossed the Bridge that I'm terrified of losing you. Terrified. Up until a few years ago, I hardly ever got to _scared_. The universe could be threatening to tear itself apart and I still didn't…but now I'm terrified. All day, every day, ever since we found out about the cancer. But I can compartmentalize." She was bad at being scared, but she'd always been good at compartmentalizing. "I can control it, I can function. Not in bed though. When I'm with you like that, I can't block anything out. We're so close, and then I start thinking about what happens if we _can't _be anymore. What happens if you're gone. And I can't…I'll fall apart if I think about that. And I can't…I can't afford to fall apart." If she did, she wasn't confident in her ability to pick herself up again

"And this is what happened the other night," Sarah said after long moments of silence.

Olivia nodded miserably. It sounded as ridiculous as she'd imagined it would. More so even. She wished that she could sink down into the tile like one of Sarah's liquid metal nightmares.

"Do you think I don't know what this does to you?" Sarah asked softly. "You think I don't know what you're doing when you force yourself to be strong for me?"

Honestly, Olivia wasn't sure. If Sarah really knew what effect this was having, she doubted the brunette would be so quick to disregard the Cortexiphan option.

When no answer was forthcoming, Sarah closed the small gap between them and reclaimed Olivia's hand, running her thumb along the palm. The skin there was slightly irritated, first from gripping the knife, then from holding the counter so tightly. Sarah brought the hand to her lips, left it there for a long moment, then tugged gently again. "Come on," she murmured.

"Sarah-"

"Liv."

"What?"

"Bedroom."

They went to the bedroom, Sarah in the lead. She halted them in front of the bed, which Olivia was now looking at as though it scared her. Sarah cupped her cheek and kissed her, making it as slow and easy as she possibly could. When Olivia had relaxed into the contact, Sarah began toying with that drawstring that she'd been too busy to pay attention to earlier. Olivia pulled back from the kiss, but Sarah ran her thumb across the blonde's lips before she could say anything. "It's just you and me. That's all it is. Try to let the other stuff go for awhile."

Olivia nodded. It was tense and uncertain, but it was assent nonetheless. Taking what she could get, Sarah alternated between toying with the drawstring and running her hands over Olivia's hips and thighs. Eventually, she pulled the sweats down, helping Olivia step out of them. Sparing a moment to appreciate the sight of Liv in black underwear, Sarah then dropped to her knees and began kissing and licking her way up long, strong legs.

Olivia released a series of low gasping sounds. She ended up having to clutch Sarah's shoulder again, her other hand tangling in the woman's hair. There was no pattern to it, no telling when it would end. Sarah would be halfway up the right leg, then start kissing down the left. It was maddening, exquisite torment, and it almost, _almost _made Olivia forget about everything she was afraid of. By the time Sarah reached the apex of her thighs, her knees were shaking badly enough that the brunette had to wrap an arm around them to keep Olivia steady.

When her path was blocked by a layer of thin, dark material, Sarah got to her feet and kissed Olivia again. In the midst of this, she slipped a hand under the blonde's shirt, fingers tracing the line of her spine. When she reached Olivia's bra, Sarah managed to undo the clasp and remove the thing without the other woman taking off her shirt. Olivia had always liked that trick. Tossing the bra aside, Sarah ran her fingers over Olivia's nipples, feeling them harden under the thin material of the shirt. When Olivia tried to push herself closer, Sarah rested a hand on her stomach, enjoying the sensation of muscles jumping against her palm. She couldn't give Olivia what she wanted though. The blonde wanted this done quickly so she couldn't get to a place that she was too scared to fall from. But what Olivia wanted sometimes differed from what she needed.

Seating herself at the edge of the bed, Sarah eased the other woman out of her shirt, grasping her hips and kissing her stomach. Swirling her tongue around Olivia's navel, Sarah slipped her thumbs past the barrier of her underwear, helping the other woman out of those as well. "I'm sitting down," she pointed out. "So no accusing me of tiring myself out. " Punctuating the order with a quick run of her finger over Olivia's clit, Sarah then leaned in, using her mouth instead.

Between Sarah's awareness of how Olivia's body worked and the blonde's continued sensitivity after their activities in the kitchen, it didn't take much to bring her close to the edge. Sarah kept her eyes on Olivia's face, watching the arousal build. Arousal, and anxiety. She'd hoped Olivia's worries would be calmed by now. Hoped, but hadn't expected. So without missing a beat, Sarah lay back on the mattress, pulling Olivia with her. Moving up the bed until she felt pillows behind her, Sarah let Olivia help her undress, but stopped her from going any further. Rolling them until she was the one on top, Sarah placed a teasing kiss against Olivia's mouth, pulling back when Olivia tried to deepen it. "Let me do this." Cupping the back of Olivia's neck with one hand, Sarah let the other one drop, teasing the space between Olivia's breasts, trailing down her stomach, then going lower until her fingers hovered over the blonde's entrance.

Olivia cried out when Sarah's fingers slipped inside. She was more than ready, except she _wasn't_. Physical needs won out over emotional inhibitions though, and she ended up covering Sarah's wrist with hers, trying to increase the pace.

"Easy," Sarah murmured, resisting the efforts. "Easy. Just let me," she repeated.

Without another choice, Olivia did. Giving control to Sarah half-eased, half-worsened her fears about what would happen at the end of this. She wasn't going to have to wait long to find out. Slow thrusts became faster, harder. And when Sarah's thumb began working her clit again, Olivia knew she was nearing the end. "Sarah…" The word was a plea, whether to stop or finish, Olivia didn't know.

"Relax. Just relax and let it go."

She was acting like a virgin. Like she was with Amanda that first night. Amanda who'd died on the other side, left the _other _Olivia with nothing but grief and memories. She couldn't do this, couldn't _lose _this. It'd been bad when she lost John Scott. It would be so much worse this time. 'Sarah…" Another plea, though this time Olivia knew what she was asking for. Begging for. For Sarah not to be sick. To give herself the chance to get better. To not leave Olivia alone the way John Scott had. The way her mother had.

"I'm here. I'm right here. It's okay. Let go of it."

Olivia had to. Her body gave no other options. When the waves hit, they didn't stop. It felt like they never would. Just like the tears. Didn't seem like those would stop either.

* * *

Olivia was wrong on both counts, but unfortunately the tears outlasted the pleasure. "I'm getting you all wet," she said ruefully.

"Always," Sarah replied, kissing the top of Olivia's head as the last of the blonde's tears stained her chest.

Laughing without meaning to, Olivia leaned up for a brief kiss resuming her previous position. Sarah's left breast was currently functioning as Olivia's pillow, the steady thrum of her heart threatening to lull the blonde out of wakefulness. "Not what I meant."

"I know. I like my meaning better," Sarah replied, combing her fingers through soft hair. In a different tone, "World didn't end."

"What?"

"Olivia Dunham lost control for a few minutes and the world didn't spin off its axis."

True enough. She'd thought Sarah's goal was to prove that Olivia could get through it without breaking down. She'd been wrong. "That shouldn't have happened."

"Had to at some point. You needed it."

"I need _you_."

"Still right here," Sarah replied, squeezing her a little tighter.

But for how long? Rather than ask questions she didn't want the answers to, Olivia focused on the other thing that was bothering her most in that moment. "How can I think its okay to break down over this when you haven't? It's happening to you, and-"

"It's happening to all of us," Sarah interrupted.

Olivia ignored that for now. "_You _haven't broken down. You haven't cried over it."

A pause. "I don't need to. It's been eight years since Cameron told me it could happen. I've had eight years to go through the anger, denial, bargaining routine."

"I know," said Olivia, easing off of Sarah so she could sit up and face her properly. "That's what scares me. That you spent so long with the possibility of this. That now that it's happened, you think the rest of what Cameron said is an inevitability."

The rest of what Cameron said. That the cancer would kill her. "Everybody dies, Liv. That _is_ an inevitability."

"Stop deflecting. You're right, this isn't just happening to you. It's happening to me and John and Savannah. And you promised us you'd fight it but…" Olivia didn't want to finish the thought.

"But what?"

"But on some level, you seem resigned to it. Are you?"

Sarah looked away a moment before answering. "History has a way of repeating itself, Liv. We've seen that. We try to change things, the universe or the timestream or whatever controls things, it always wants to change them back."

"So what? You were supposed to die ten years ago so that means you have to die now? That's just your fate? Is that really what you're saying to me?"

Another pause. "I'm saying it might be, yes."

"Bullshit," Olivia snapped, fear leading to anger. "No fate but what we make." No response. "You can't pick and choose when that works and when it doesn't. You don't get to sit this battle out because it's easier for you to suddenly believe the outcome is out of your control."

"Easy? You think that's easy for me?"

"In a way? Yes. I think you're tired. You fought everything else for such a long time that I think you've finally hit a wall. You're not sure you have it in you to fight this anymore, so now you're spouting this crap about predeterminism to get yourself out of it." Sarah didn't answer, and Olivia shook her head in frustration. "You know what? It's not about fate. This has nothing to do with fate. It's about hope. And I can't believe that you don't have that anymore. You have John. You have Savannah. They should be all the hope you need to keep fighting."

"They are," Sarah said quietly. "_You _are."

"Then why not try the Cortexiphan? You, not John, I'm not asking you for that. It's not an easy choice, but none of them ever are for us, and I know you. You see the big picture, even if you've been pretending not to. We still need you. All of us. That should trump everything else. So why doesn't it? Why won't you try the Cortexiphan when we both know that nothing you've given me as a reason would be worse than what happens if you _don't _do it?" Sarah was silent for so long that Olivia thought she'd chosen not to answer again. Then she heard Sarah's reply, and was sure she'd heard it wrong

"If you need to know that badly, it's because of Cameron."

It wasn't often that Olivia was rendered speechless. In this instance though, in the face of that statement, she could think of literally nothing to say. A condition that only got worse when Sarah finished her answer.

"And because of you."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **Hey all. Not much to say except thanks for the continued support. Also, I reference something here that was brought up in season 4 of Fringe. Which of course did not happen in my little corner of the universe. But I'm assuming that the discussion between Olivia and Walter that's mentioned here _did _occur at some point, just under different circumstances than those we saw in the show. And with that out of the way, happy reading, thanks again for your comments, and please do leave more of them on your way out.

* * *

Olivia was still in a state of confused shock when Sarah got up and started moving. The brunette had run so many times so _fast _that she was half-dressed before Olivia had a chance to speak. "What are you doing?" she asked, clutching the bed sheet tight against her. She'd been feeling raw and vulnerable already, a state that wasn't at all helped by Sarah's cryptic admission.

"Short movie," Sarah replied, slipping back into the flannel overshirt to combat the goosebumps that'd started forming the moment she gave up Olivia's warmth. "Savannah and John will be back soon, and I don't want to have to trip back into my clothes ten seconds before they come barging in looking for us. Had my fill of that back at Nina's penthouse." They still had an hour. At least. Probably double that. Given how quickly they'd run out of here, Sarah doubted the kids would be in much of a hurry to get back. It was her, all her. She'd made it impossible to avoid the conversation any longer, but there was absolutely no way she could have it naked, in the bed she shared with Olivia.

For long moments, all Olivia could do was watch in puzzled anger as Sarah straightened her clothes and left their bedroom. By the time she'd snapped out of it and gotten dressed herself, Sarah was in the kitchen, putting away the apron that'd been tossed aside earlier. The surplus of vegetables Olivia spent half the night chopping was nowhere in sight. Presumably, Sarah had already gotten to those as well. She'd started wiping down the counter when Olivia reached her. The blonde's hand slamming down against the dishtowel halted that action. "Dammit, would you _stop_? You don't drop _that _on me and then bolt. That's not going to work, Sarah."

Their positions were reversed. Now it was Sarah standing here cornered, unable to voice what needed to be said. "Come on." The phrase was uttered with much less enthusiasm than when she'd used it to urge Olivia into bed with her. "Please," she continued, gesturing vaguely towards the living room. "Can we just…not here. All right?"

Olivia sighed in frustration but still moved aside, following Sarah over to the couch. Her lover took a seat on the sofa, but Olivia felt too restless and confused to do the same. So the blonde remained standing with her arms crossed, waiting for an explanation.

"Can you not do that? Feels like you're interrogating suspects again."

Reluctantly, Olivia perched herself at the very edge of the coffee table, in front of Sarah. Their knees would've been touching if Olivia weren't putting in extra effort to make sure that didn't happen.

"You've said before that you think the Cortexiphan stilted your emotions somehow," Sarah began, once she realized that Olivia wasn't going to say anything else. Just stare her down with the cop look until she had what she wanted.

Olivia frowned. Of all the myriad of possible side effects of the drug, that one hadn't even been among the top ten on her list to worry about. "That was never proven. Walter never said definitively that-"

"I'm not asking about what Walter thinks right now. _You _think that it did_."_

She'd never been the warmest person on the planet. Snippets of conversations she wasn't supposed to hear revealed that some of her colleagues considered her downright cold. As opposed to the _other_ Olivia, who laughed and made jokes, carried herself so easily. The blonde used to attribute it to the differences in their history: she'd lost her mother, the other woman hadn't. She'd also lost John Scott. But her alternate didn't have Rachel. Or Ella. And then there was the recently gained knowledge that she too had lost a lover. Different losses, but no less devastating, Olivia had to acknowledge that. In so many respects, they thought the same way, reacted the same to given situations. But emotionally, that was another story. Olivia had pushed Amanda Simon away after that first year. Her twin on the other side had opened up, given herself over to what Amanda was offering. They'd probably still be together if not for Walter's actions Over There.

Quicker with a smile, that's what Peter said all those years ago. About the other Olivia.

"I think it's possible," Olivia hedged. She couldn't and didn't want to get into the other things, and she couldn't say anything that would cause Sarah to throw away her last chance at getting well. "I don't understand where you're going with this."

"I'm not for you to understand." It came out under her breath, laced with bitterness and something else Sarah didn't wish to identify. She knew she'd dropped her poker face, could see Olivia searching for hidden meaning behind the words. She wouldn't find it, because that phrase had only been between _them_ Sarah and Cameron. The brunette uttered it without thinking, wishing instantly that she could steal it back. Absent that option, Sarah chose to plow ahead, slice into the wound and get this done. "I know you can compartmentalize," she stated, referencing Olivia's earlier explanation. "You're great at that, you always were. But I've been practicing it a little longer than you have and I'm telling you that it only goes so far. You can hold things back, keep yourself from feeling them, but eventually it starts to backfire."

Pain can be controlled. You just disconnect from it. That's what Kyle said, what he'd practiced. How he'd dealt with the most horrific of nightmares, things that'd made a nineteen year-old Sarah want to curl up and hide in a dark corner. Thirty years ago she'd been shocked by it, unable to comprehend how anyone could function that way. But then Kyle died, and his reality quickly became hers.

"Sometimes you go too far," Sarah continued. "You disconnect to avoid feeling the bad, and then eventually you stop feeling altogether. You start to become one of them."

"Them. The machines." Cameron.

"Yes."

Olivia shook her head. "That's ridiculous."

"It isn't. Because it happened. More than once. And I can feel it happening again, and it _can't _happen again. And I don't need some emotion-numbing drug speeding things up."

"You can feel it happening again. Feel what? Explain it to me."

"Pescadero," Sarah said after a long pause. "Things happened, things I couldn't cope with. Except if I went numb. That was the only way. But then it went too far. I got so disconnected that I gave up on John." She held Olivia's gaze as she said that, but only just. Olivia knew the basics of her history with Cameron, including the stuff that no one else did. In one sense, Sarah considered her time sneaking around with the cyborg to be her lowest point. But signing those adoption papers trumped it, in so many ways. Sarah had told Olivia about Cameron on her own initiative, reluctance aside. The only reason the FBI agent knew of her actions with John was because it was in the tapes, the records Olivia pored over while investigating the brunette.

"That was a mistake," Olivia said softly. "You knew that as soon as it happened, you told me. You were going to get him back."

"I didn't though. He got me. He came for me after I gave him up. We were in the car afterwards and he hugged me and I pushed him away. Yelled. Three years thinking of nothing but him and the first thing I did was shove him away from me." He'd held her then just as tightly as he had two days ago, with the same amount of loving desperation. And she'd pushed him away. "He sat there crying and I let him. I didn't _feel _enough to…" Sarah trailed off, eyes drifting toward the wall she'd repaired after the argument with Savannah, the place where the book had dented it. "Look at Savannah, when we told her I was sick. I sat there watching her, knowing she was about to fall apart. And then I…" Screamed. Snatched the book away. Caused the girl to shake uncontrollably, like she used to after one of her nightmares about machines and bad men with guns. Sarah had given her plenty to be scared of, couldn't stand the thought of the kid being scared of _her _as well.

"That's over and done with," Olivia countered. "She forgives you, you know she does. She knows you'd never hurt her."

"Too late, hurt her already," Sarah refuted, green eyes locking on green. "And you."

Olivia couldn't deny it. The shock, the flashback to her stepfather and his rages. Sarah hadn't touched Savannah, but there was no arguing that witnessing the brunette's outburst had hurt. It hurt and it scared her, and it was something Olivia hadn't been prepared to see.

Sarah nodded, using the blonde's silence as confirmation. "And I hurt you again, after we talked to Walter the first time."

"What?" Olivia asked, forehead creasing in confusion.

"After we talked to Walter, before we crossed the Bridge. You know what I'm talking about."

And suddenly Olivia _did _know. It'd been the first in their marathon of arguments about the Cortexiphan treatments.

_"I can't beat them if you're not here," she'd said, referring to the machines. "Do you understand that? If they come back or if something else happens between the universes…I can't do it again, not by myself."_

_Sarah had turned away then, putting her back to Olivia before answering. "Did you think you could shoot your stepfather? Before it happened, did you really think you could?"_

_"No. I didn't."_

_Sarah nodded without facing her. "You still did it."_

Olivia remembered the shock, remembered wondering how the hell Sarah could do that, dismiss her vulnerability so easily. She'd thought the brunette hadn't known how much it wounded her, but apparently Sarah _did _realize. It just hadn't mattered.

"I know how much that took from you, saying what you did," Sarah stated as if she'd read Olivia's mind. "I just disconnected again, so I wouldn't _have _to know."

"You said it happened more than once, the disconnection, the numbness." She couldn't claim that Sarah hadn't hurt her, so the only road left was to keep going, get at the things that really mattered.

"It did. Wasn't as bad the second time, but still. After Sarkissian, after Cameron went haywire. John barely spoke to me; Derek was sneaking around with Jesse. Cameron…" She meant to say something about the chip, what the explosion did. Somehow the words wouldn't come. "We were falling apart, all of us. And I couldn't stop it."

"So you disconnected again."

Sarah nodded confirmation. "Started to. Then I realized what was happening and…"

"What?" Olivia prodded. Her defensive anger was beginning to melt away and without conscious thought she leaned forward, hand coming to rest on Sarah's knee.

Sarah tried not to enjoy the contact, fighting the urge to lace Olivia's fingers with her own. She couldn't accept comfort from the other woman, not while they were talking about this. "I felt it happening, felt myself shutting down. Cameron and I happened because she was there. Screwed up as she was after the Jeep explosion, she was there_." _As opposed to John. Derek. Charley. There'd been no one else to keep Sarah from losing herself again. "She was around and she didn't argue, and I needed to feel something." A bitter chuckle escaped Sarah's lips. "I needed a machine to help me feel something. That's how far gone I was."

Olivia didn't buy it, never had. To a point maybe, but not completely. Sarah had always claimed temporary insanity when it came to her relationship with the cyborg. That it was just sex, justifiable at the time because Cameron was a hunk of metal who felt nothing. Those arguments had always rang hollow to Olivia. They were too fervent, too much false bravado behind them. They reminded Olivia of her own response when a friend in high school first suggested that the blonde might have a more-than friendly affection for women. But Sarah believed her own words, or wanted to. And there was no time to press the issue because the dark-haired woman was talking again.

"I didn't like who I was when I got that way. Closed-off as I was, I still knew that much. And I sure as hell didn't like who I was with Cameron." Hard to feel good about herself while she was fucking the machine her son had been having wet dreams about in the next room. "Things changed with you." She'd gone home with Olivia that first night for the same reason she'd been with Cameron, to feel something. It'd just gone further with the blonde, further than she'd ever expected. Not that she was complaining, scary as the feelings had been at the time. "I like who I am with you," she continued, giving in to temptation and covering Olivia's hand with hers. "That hasn't happened in…in a long time. But now there's this," she said, making a vague gesture with her free hand that was meant to encompass her cancer-ridden body. "Savannah's shutting down too, John and I, that's worse than it ever was. I can't slip again. I can't be who I was before you. Give me some drug that suppresses my emotions even further, it's pretty much guaranteed that I will. John and Savannah deserve more than that. So do you."

Olivia took that in for long, silent moments. Then she disentangled her hand from Sarah's, using it to brush dark hair out of green eyes. "I can't believe that you have so little faith."

Faith wasn't part of her programming. Sarah bit the words back at the last second, but it was unaccountably difficult. "Faith's not really my thing. Didn't think it was yours either."

Olivia flashed on her mother's cross, the necklace Ella had tried to give back in hopes that it would make a difference for Sarah. "I'm not talking about God; I'm talking you and me. I can't believe you think that I'd let you fall back like that."

"I'm not sure you'd have a choice."

"There's always a choice. No fate but what we make," Olivia stated, repeating what she'd said in the bedroom. "Even if the Cortexiphan does affect your emotions, that doesn't have to mean anything. You changed me too you know. You saw what a wreck I was after I came back from the other side, and even before then I was never good at the emotional stuff. I'm not pretending either of us is great with it now, but we're better than we were, we helped each other. It's not just you locked in that institution anymore or you trying to hold everyone together on your own. You don't need to disconnect yourself. I wouldn't let you. Savannah will get through this. She forgave you for what happened when she came back, she'll forgive you anything else that might happen because of the Cortexiphan. But if you leave? That would be different."

Sarah shook her head. "You're still acting like leaving is something I want. It isn't."

"But if it happens," Olivia pressed, fighting to talk past the lump in her throat. "If it happens because you didn't do everything you could to stop it? She worships you. She thinks you're the strongest person in the world."

"So did John once. Eventually he realized he was wrong. Sooner or later, so will she."

"But now? Like this? If she thinks that you didn't try every viable option, I honestly don't know that she'd forgive you. And…"

Olivia's breath hitched. She ducked her head and Sarah had to put a finger under her chin, force renewed eye contact. "What?" she asked, acutely conscious of how bright Olivia's eyes had become.

"And if you're gone, she's going to start blaming me, because I didn't convince you to save yourself."

"She doesn't have to know about the Cortexiphan."

For a second, Olivia turned to steel. "She does," the blonde refuted firmly. "They both do. James, Astrid, everyone else already knows. If we don't tell them, Walter's going to blurt it out at some point and then what?" There was also no way in hell that Olivia would keep this from them. John especially. But now wasn't the time for round twelve of that argument. "If you're gone," she continued, voice softening again, "and Savannah starts hating me, too? I won't…I can't lose both of you. I can't."

A single tear escaped Olivia's eye, cascading down her cheek. Sarah took it away with her thumb, but said nothing. What was there to say to that?

"And as for you and John, that's fixable. You weren't here when Walter first left the hospital, you didn't see how bad things were between him and Peter. And then again when Peter found out about his past, about Walter taking him. But they survived it, because Peter knew why Walter did it. He crossed universes twice to save his son's life. And despite all the sarcasm and complaints, you and I both know that Peter would do anything for Walter. Just like you and John. You can heal things, but only if you're here to do the work."

Still lacking a rebuttal, Sarah leaned forward, resting her forehead against Olivia's and dropping a kiss there.

"It wouldn't happen," Olivia said quietly, stroking Sarah's cheek with her palm. "What you're afraid of, becoming that other person again. John and Savannah would keep it from happening. _I'd _keep it from happening. I wouldn't let you go like that."

Not without one hell of a fight.

* * *

"So, no idea why we're being summoned?" Sarah asked. She and Olivia were currently in an elevator, making their way to the top floor of Massive Dynamic.

"None," Olivia said with a shrug.

A pause as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. "Any idea why we didn't _ignore _the summons?"

"I don't remember twisting your arm," Olivia countered, navigating the maze of hallways that would lead her to Nina's office. The complaints were a show and they both knew it. Nina's cryptic request for a meeting left Sarah with the perfect excuse to avoid talking to John and Savannah for a little longer. On the verge of reminding the brunette to behave herself, Olivia stopped short when she turned a corner and saw Nina Sharp walking towards them.

"Ah. I was hoping to catch you two in the lobby, but this works out well, doesn't it? Thank you for coming."

"Of course," Olivia replied, stopping in front of the redhead. "But I have to admit that I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

"Yes well, we'll get to that in a moment." Turning her attention to the woman at Olivia's side, "Sarah, always a pleasure."

"Nina. So what are we doing here?"

"Straight to the point, as usual. I was actually hoping that you might assist me with something, Sarah."

Glancing at Olivia and finding nothing but confusion there, Sarah refocused on the older woman, eyebrows climbing toward her hairline. "Are you asking me for a favor?"

"Of sorts, yes."

"Do tell then."

"I've recently acquired a new head of security for this building. The goal is to revamp the protective measures surrounding Massive Dynamic. And since you managed to break in here a few years ago and make a complete mockery of all our security protocols, I hoped you might share some suggestions on how to improve things."

She'd left Boston after that first night with Olivia only to return a few weeks later when she realized that Nina Sharp possessed a cybernetic arm which looked very much like that of a terminator. "I didn't make a mockery of anything, your security systems did that all on their own. And at the time, I did think you were trying to destroy the world. "

"You mentioned that. Several times."

"After your guards stopped hitting me, yeah."

"A misunderstanding, you know that. Bob Kramer still has a bit of a limp."

"Bob. He the one who fell down the east stairwell?"

"That would be him, yes. Though he always said you _threw _him down that stairwell."

Sarah shrugged. "I asked Bob to move. Nicely. He wouldn't. So. You want me to chaperone your new guy around, show him everything that needs to be fixed around here. Is that it?"

"More or less."

Sarah nodded. "Shouldn't I get some kind of consulting fee for that?"

"Why don't we just call it repayment for the two-thousand dollar painting you destroyed during your first visit?"

"There might've been a safe behind it. And it was ugly."

"The safe was behind an electronic panel on the opposite wall, so I'm afraid you missed it. And that painting was in my office. I enjoyed that painting."

"Sorry. So where's this new hire you want me to babysit?"

The deep baritone providing the answer didn't belong to Nina. "I'd think you'd be used to watching my back by now," James Ellison replied, rounding the corner clad in suit and tie. "And I'd like to get it on record that I didn't ask her to do this."

Olivia went to greet him, a shocked smile gracing her face as they shared a hug. "God it's good to see you again. I had no idea you were here."

"I _wasn't _until about half an hour ago," said James, lips brushing her cheek. When the embrace broke, he turned his attention to Sarah, who'd hung back after his approach. "Sarah. You look good."

She looked too thin and too tired, but didn't feel like pointing out the obvious. "And you look a little gray," she said instead.

Ellison brought a hand to his chin. Some of the facial hair there was changing color prematurely. "All those years of your babysitting finally catching up to me."

Another nod from the brunette. "You didn't tell me you were mulling over any job offers."

She was still going for civil, but there was an edge to her voice that was impossible to miss. "That's because I wasn't," James replied carefully. "Nina called after we last spoke, asked about the job, told me to be here within an impossibly short timeframe if I wanted it."

"I wouldn't say impossible," Nina refuted. "You arrived five minutes ahead of schedule. That combined with our previous dealings tells me that you're more than qualified for the position."

"Previous dealings," Sarah repeated. "You mean that time we all hung around and saved the world together?" Before the older woman could answer, Sarah addressed James again. "Didn't you learn a little something about answering want ads from power hungry redheads? No offense, Nina."

"None taken." A pause and a raised eyebrow. "As always."

"I would've called," said James. "I didn't have time."

"Right," Sarah said flatly.

Shooting her lover a quick glance, Olivia rejoined the conversation, speaking to James and Nina. "It's great to have you back," she said to the former. To the redhead, "Why don't you show him the supply closet a couple hallways down? We'll meet you there in a minute."

"Is a supply closet really that relevant to the building's security?" James questioned even as he followed Nina away from the other two.

"Walter still has setbacks sometimes," Nina explained. "He's been known to confuse that closet for a bathroom and lock himself in. Probably best if you do make a note of it."

"I can hardly wait for the rest of the tour," James muttered.

Once they were alone, Olivia turned her gaze on Sarah. "What's the problem?" she asked, fairly certain she already knew.

"I ask him to call Savannah while you're out with Nina. Then he's on a plane because Nina suddenly has a job opening. I'm starting to resent this little grapevine of information that's developed between everyone."

"Sarah-"

"I know what she's doing, finding excuses to get the old team back together," Sarah interrupted, sarcasm lacing her voice.

"And what if she is?"

"We're not fighting anymore. This isn't me getting shot in Van Nuys. I don't need everyone flocking towards me and tripping over themselves out of pity."

"It's _not _pity," Olivia retorted sharply, "and you know that. And frankly I don't see the problem if the 'old team' does want to get back together."

"Of course you don't."

"No. And do you know why? Because you just told me how scared you are of becoming someone you don't want to be. And what did you always say about fighting the machines, about the thing that killed you the most? It was that you _knew_ everything. Knew how it was going to end, when it was going to happen, what needed to be done to stop it. You knew and no one believed you, no one was on your side. And of course that hardened you; of course it happened again after Sarkissian, when things with John and everyone else started to fracture. But if you're so afraid of that happening again, then why let it? _Let _James help with Savannah, let the others do what they can. John being back doesn't mean it's suddenly like it was, you and him on one side, everyone else on the other." A pause. "Things _can't _go back to that. I can't deal if they do. You've got people on your side now; you just have to let them be there."

Sarah took that in without speaking. After long moments of still silence, she gave a brief squeeze to Olivia's hand before turning on her heel. The blonde fell in step beside her without a word and after a short walk and a few turns they had rejoined James and Nina at the supply closet that occasionally doubled as a urinal. Blonde and redhead stood back while Sarah enfolded James in a quick embrace, wiping away his look of apprehension. "It's good you're here," she said quietly.

"Thanks," James said, matching her low tone. "Is that because it really _is _good, or because Olivia's asked you to play nice?"

"Both," Sarah replied, a smirk pulling at her lips as the contact broke. "One more than the other."

"Do I want to know?" James asked, his own mouth curving slightly.

"Thought you wanted to know how to keep the terrorists from busting in here and losing you your new job."

"That too."

Sarah shot a quick glance at Nina before launching into her response. "The alarm system's a problem, John and his MIT tech guys hacked it in two hours. Camera placement needs serious revising. Patrol patterns for the guards need to be looked at too."

"The patrol patterns shouldn't need _that _much restructuring," Nina pointed out. "Bob Kramer did manage to catch you."

"He ran into me," Sarah corrected. "If he'd caught me, he wouldn't have that limp. And he only ran into me because he left his normal patrol route so he could have a bathroom break. In a regular bathroom, not in here," Sarah clarified, indicating the closet. To James, "You keeping track of all this?"

"Maybe it'd be best if we discussed it over lunch," Ellison replied.

"Maybe. You buying?"

"I could be, yes."

"You _should _be. I'm sure Nina's paying you pretty well to watch Walter and keep all the tech-hating psycos out. "

"Well enough."

"All right then. So what are you in the mood for?"

* * *

They stopped at a café down the street, Olivia and Sarah taking one end of a booth while James occupied the other. Olivia was finishing off her meal when her cell buzzed, interrupting the flow of conversation. "It's Broyles," she announced after a quick check of the screen.

"Do we need to leave?" Sarah asked.

"No," the blonde replied, even as she stood up herself. "We just agreed to a check-in call sometime this afternoon." She'd been working from home a lot lately, and her boss claimed that email could only go so far. Olivia thought he was just worried, about her _and _Sarah. Not that she would articulate that suspicion to him. "Give me five minutes?"

"We'll be here," James said with a nod. "Give Broyles my best, will you?"

"Got it."

Sarah watched her lover head to a quieter section of the restaurant, phone to her ear. She saw that James was tracking the blonde as well, something that might've been wistfulness glinting in his eyes. "Excited about the new job?"

Ellison shrugged, raising his beverage to his lips as he refocused on Sarah. "More excited than I've been for any of the other ones. And Massive Dynamic has influence in a lot of areas. They're global players; it's a good organization to be part of."

"Sounds like you got the same pitch Olivia did when Nina was trying to recruit _her_."

"Well. Olivia had reasons to say no. More of them than I do."

He didn't sound bitter but Sarah got the point. His job at the FBI had been everything to him. He wasn't directionless in the same way John had been for the last few years, but he'd never quite regained the equilibrium that she and the machines had taken from him. "Savannah will be glad to see you."

"I'll be glad to see her."

He smiled at the redhead's name, like Sarah knew he would. She returned it and felt better and worse at the same time. Better because this relocation wasn't solely about her, worse because he was a good man and knowing her had cost him, the same way it cost everyone else. She cared much more about that now than she had in the desert, when they'd buried Cromartie and she told him to get gone.

"If nothing else, Nina's offer will make it easier, what we talked about."

When she first discovered the cancer, Sarah had made an agreement with James. Made him swear that if she deteriorated to a certain point, that he would take Savannah, at least for awhile. Knowing he had reasons for bringing that promise up now made Sarah tread very lightly. "Uh-huh," she said in a noncommittal way, using her fork to shift the contents of her plate.

"Have you discussed that with Savannah?"

"If I had, don't you think you would've gotten an angry call by now?"

"So you know she's going to fight you tooth and nail on it, even if I'm closer now."

"Wouldn't be the first time." She'd barely touched her food, could feel Ellison's awareness of that. "I know what it did to Olivia, watching this happen to her mother. I see it every day. Savannah doesn't need to remember me like that."

"You're speaking as if it's a foregone conclusion."

He was feeling his way around, seeing how far he could push her. Sarah tried to resist without snapping. "Not you too."

"I haven't said anything."

"Maybe that's the problem. Spit it out, James," she ordered, failing a bit at her attempt of control.

"You haven't talked to John and Savannah yet," he stated, seemingly unaffected by the outburst.

"Not true, I've talked to both of them. When I talked to John, he quit his job. When I talked to Savannah, she took off and Olivia had to track her down so she could cry herself out in the middle of the night." They'd only just accepted the news that she was dying. Now she'd have to tell them that things were worse, that it was happening faster than expected.

"So this is you protecting them. Or is it you protecting _you_?" Sarah gave him a sharp look and James rushed on before she had time to really cut him. "My father died…ten years ago now," he said, hardly able to believe it had been that long. "We disagreed about a lot of things. It was a complicated relationship."

Sarah gave the slightest of nods. Complicated parent/child relationships were one thing she knew well.

"It wasn't sudden, his passing, but it felt that way to my siblings and I. He was a tough man, saw a lot of things as signs of weakness. So when he got sick he didn't tell us, not for a long time. I'm sure part of it was him trying to shield us, but the other part was him trying to shield himself."

"And you resented him for that," Sarah said, not making it a question.

"There were things I would've liked to say and do with him, yes, things I didn't have time for." There was a pause, the sounds of quiet chatter and silverware hitting plates becoming more prominent. "You don't need to just give them bad news you know," he said finally. "There's hope," he continued, knowing she'd realize he was referring to the Cortexiphan. "You can give them that too, if you accept it yourself."

* * *

It was a repeat of the night Savannah found out. Sarah and Olivia on the couch, Savannah in a chair in front of them. John was the added element. He stood away from them, staring out the window Sarah used during her early morning vigils. The pose, his bearing while holding it, the combination reminded her of Kyle. Kyle at the motel, watching from the window, protecting her from the machine they both knew would find them eventually. That thing had been crushed decades ago, but in some ways Sarah had never stopped running from it.

"This is why, isn't it?" Savannah asked. "Why I stayed late at Rachel's, why you weren't answering your phone. It was because of this."

Sarah and Olivia had just told them everything. The worsened prognosis, the transplant talks, the issues surrounding the Cortexiphan. Of all the possible first questions after those admissions, Sarah wasn't expecting the one that came from Savannah's lips. "Yes."

Savannah nodded. Her face was stone, but stone that was about to crack. Without a word, she stood up and made to leave the room.

"Savannah." It was Olivia who spoke, using deliberate caution. She remembered all too well what happened the last time Savannah was prevented from leaving after they dropped such a bombshell on her.

The redhead turned, but it wasn't Olivia she spoke to. "You're such a liar."

Sarah grimaced at the undisguised venom there, fingernails digging into the flesh of her palm.

"Savannah Weaver." There was enough sharpness in Olivia's voice to make the redhead wince, though Olivia suspected that it was less about the tone than the name. Savannah had a different last name now, and something about hearing the real one, the one she'd had with the machine, it always drew her up short.

"You promised," Savannah stated. She didn't sound angry anymore. Now she just seemed gutted. "You stood outside my room and you swore. Anything except time travel. Anything but that. You _promised."_

"I know. But I wasn't talking about-"

"Anything that might actually work? Why the hell did you even bother telling us about this if you've already made up your mind not to do it?"

Because she'd caved. To Olivia and James and everyone else. Sarah wouldn't say that though, had no idea what she _would've_ said if John hadn't turned from the window and Savannah hadn't put her attention on him.

"You have to talk to her," said the redhead, sounding as desperate as Sarah had ever heard.

"I know," John replied.

"You have to. You have to tell her-"

"I _know_," John repeated. "It's okay. It'll be okay."

There was resolve in his face, in the tone of his voice, a clarity of purpose Sarah hadn't seen there in a long time. She was seeing a glimpse of the man from Kyle's stories. And in this context, rather than feeling proud or relieved, Sarah was actually a little scared to be in the presence of Reese's John Connor.

"I don't…" Savannah trailed off, caught somewhere between red hot anger and bone-deep despair. "You swore," she repeated. Sharing a final look with John, she turned on her heel and retreated to her room, door closing in her wake.

John was the first to break the silence after Savannah's departure. "Olivia, could I talk to my mother alone for a second, please?"

He addressed her politely like he always had, but the request wasn't really a question. Not that Olivia was complaining. "Of course," she replied, giving Sarah's hand a squeeze and ignoring the look of betrayal that flashed in green eyes. "I'm going to go take care of her," she said, nodding towards Savannah's room as she stood. She hated seeing the child in pain, would walk through fire to take it away, but at least Savannah's exit gave the blonde her own reason to leave. All she could do now was hope that Savannah was right, that John would reach that part of Sarah which only he had access to.

Olivia found the redhead leaning against the desk in her room, holding her cell phone with trembling fingers. "Savannah," the blonde murmured, closing the door behind her.

"I'm calling Uncle James. He'll pick me up if I ask him."

He would, but Savannah ran the last time they had a version of this conversation, and Olivia wouldn't have her picking up the Connor's fight-or-flight habits. "You'll see James soon. Right now we're going to sit down and talk about this."

"Talk about what?" Savannah asked, gripping the desk and refusing to face the blonde. "She's already decided what she's going to do, so what's the point?"

Olivia sighed, halting in the middle of the room to give the redhead space. "She has reasons to be worried, Savannah. Cortexiphan, it's done some incredibly unpredictable things."

"So you agree with her?"

"I agree that she has reasons to be worried," Olivia hedged.

"Yeah. Reason enough to sit back and let herself die?"

Savannah's voice had been cracking more and more as the conversation went on. Now she broke completely, small frame trembling. Olivia closed the gap between them, turning her around with careful firmness. Savannah fought the contact for half a second before a choked sob escaped, symbolizing surrender. She still had the phone in one hand until it slipped from her fingers, landing forgotten on the carpet as she put all her effort into clinging to Olivia.

The blonde stroked her hair, rubbed her back, made soothing noises that meant nothing. The tears ended quicker this time, quicker than they had in the park. The sobs became sniffles and hiccups, but Savannah didn't relinquish her hold and Olivia didn't ask her to. Instead she dropped a kiss in the girl's hair, speaking quietly. "Sarah loves you more than you're ever going to know. You have to realize that."

"I do know that," Savannah replied as she finally pulled away. Her voice was rough with tears and she couldn't quite meet Olivia's gaze as she spoke. "I know she loves me. Just not enough to want to stick around, right?"

* * *

In the living room, John had taken the chair that Savannah vacated. He sat across from his mother, locked in a staring contest that seemed like it would never end.

"You're not getting that drug," Sarah stated, breaking the heavy quiet.

"That's my choice, Mom."

"No. It isn't. My body, I choose what happens. And if I choose not to get marrow that's been infected with that stuff-"

"Treated. It would _treat _you, make you better."

"We don't know that."

"Olivia said that Walter's done trials."

"He has. Walter's done a few trials. There are tapes. Olivia's in one of them, when she was a kid. She was in daycare, and Walter injected her with that drug, and she set fire to the lab they were in. With her mind. Gives a whole new meaning to the term 'side effects,' doesn't it?"

That gave John pause, but didn't stop him. "That was years ago. What we'd be getting wouldn't be the same thing."

"No. It would be the version that Walter came up with a few weeks ago, probably while he was drugged out of his mind. There's no telling what the long term effects would be."

"No. Especially if the cancer kills you before you can find out."

"They can't give you the Cortexiphan without my permission, John. They won't. And I won't risk what that stuff could do to you down the road. I'm sorry."

"Okay. So I don't take the drug. You still can. You're strong. Whatever it might do later, you can deal with it."

"Maybe I can't."

"Why, because of Olivia? She's _here, _Mom. So are most of the rest of those kids, from what you're telling me. No matter what happened, Olivia survived it, and so did the others."

"Survival doesn't mean unscathed."

"Un…? Mom, you're not unscathed _now_, okay? None of us are. We get through it, we fight. _You _fight."

Maybe she didn't. Maybe Olivia was right and she was just too tired. Definitely felt that way now. Still, when John stood, she stood with him, even though performing that task seemed unnaturally difficult.

"What if Kyle had lived?" John said suddenly, fighting an urge to pace the room. He couldn't sit while fighting for his mother's life, it felt too wrong. "What if he lived but he was hurt? Permanently, with an injury that he had to learn to live with. Are you saying that would've been worse than him being gone?"

There were so many things wrong with that analogy, the time travel complications serving as just a starter. "A war wound isn't the same as what happened to some of those kids. I could show you files that-"

"Dammit, Mom! I don't care about what happened to a bunch of strangers thirty years ago, I care about you."

"And I care about you. Have you thought about what happens if your name gets in the system because of this procedure, what happens if the wrong people find it?" She was talking less about people and more about machines, but she trusted him to get the meaning.

"I'll erase it," John said instantly.

"There _is_ no erasing it," Sarah refuted, feeling like she was in a repeat of that first argument with Olivia. "I didn't understand most of what you and your tech guys were always going on about, but I got that much. There's always a trace, no matter how well you hide yourself. You're exhausted, I knew that before you told me. And if you have to run again because someone found that trace-"

"Then I'll run. I'll get a new name. You act like this is new territory for us."

"It's not new, that's the point. You wanted a life; I want you to have one. I'm not letting you destroy that for me."

"Destroy what, Mom?" John asked, voice rising with his frustration. "What life? What do you think you're going to risk? Because in case I didn't make this clear, that new life isn't working out like I'd hoped. I don't have a big higher purpose anymore. Everything I do have is in that duffel bag," he continued, making a sweeping hand gesture in the direction of the guestroom. "And I'm telling you that nothing in there is worth your life."

He was so fucking stubborn. Too much time spent with only her for company. "Goddammit, John-"

"Mom," he interrupted, tone and expression changing in an instant.

"What?" she demanded, caught off-guard by how stricken he suddenly looked. John held a hand up to his nose and Sarah imitated the gesture. Her fingers came away bloody.

John was already moving towards the kitchen but Sarah beat him to it, pushing him aside with a force that was almost brutal. She went to the counter, tearing at the rack of paper towel hanging above it. "Mom, let me help."

"There's nothing to help with," she said gruffly, voice muffled by the white material covering her nose. White that was quickly turning red.

She kept her back to him and eventually he did the same with her. He wanted to think it was just about his mother, maintaining her dignity during a bad moment. It wasn't though, not entirely. He hadn't seen this before, the physical effects of the cancer. He noticed the thinness, but that had been a problem before. She'd never been dying before. And right at that moment, her illness scared him more than it ever had. More than when she'd first told him over the radio and he'd had to rush up to the deck and puke as soon as they finished talking.

It wouldn't stop. She kept holding the towel and pinching her nostrils and the blood wouldn't stop. None of the other nosebleeds had lasted this long. She hadn't had one in awhile, had tried to hide her symptoms through sheer force of will. She'd been doing a good job, but her body had finally chosen to retaliate, to remind her of how traitorous it had become. Her free hand gripped the counter. It shook. Sarah didn't know if it was the blood loss or John's presence that caused it. Probably both.

After what felt like an eternity to both of them, the bleeding slowed, then stopped. Sarah had to walk around John to get to the garbage can. She trashed the piece of soiled white without meeting his eyes. Then she cleaned up, hands still shaking under the hot water of the kitchen sink. "I'm good, John."

She wasn't. She couldn't even look at him while she gave the lie. Not that he was in a position to judge. He still couldn't meet her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Stressing you. I shouldn't have-"

Sarah laughed without humor, finally looking at him over her shoulder. "I've been stressed since 1984. If that were enough to cause bleeding, I would've needed about fifty transfusions by now."

John wanted to say something else, thought she did too. Instead they went back to the living room. Rather than continue facing off at opposite ends of the coffee table, mother and son took a seat on the same couch. John flashed on the time after Riley, after Jesse. He wanted to curl up like a child again, put his head in his mother's lap and cry until her words and touches made the pain bearable. But he couldn't do that, because Sarah wouldn't fix this problem. Not unless he convinced her to. So he played his last card, the one he probably should've started out with. His mom's life had always been expendable, at least in her own mind. He was the one who mattered. Future war or no, he'd always been the one that mattered to her. So John did the only thing he could think of at this point. He made it about him.

"Mom, I spent my whole life dealing with the fact that I sent my father off to die. And even if I…if this version of me…doesn't end up having to do that, it still happened. Happens. In some timeline somewhere, Kyle Reese dies because of me."

"John…" Sarah didn't know what to say. She could tell him it was Skynet's fault, not his. She could remind him of the hero his father had been. She could say a lot of things she'd been saying for the last couple of decades and every one of them would ring hollow. This was the second time he'd brought up Kyle. Sarah had been thinking of Reese a lot lately, of what he'd do and say if he were here, how he'd react to this. What he'd think of her performance as John's mother. Apparently John had been thinking about him too.

John held up a hand, halting the protest his mother hadn't been able to make. "I live with that. Because I have to. Because you and I had to live, which meant that Kyle couldn't. I can't live with this, with what you're asking me to do. I stood there and let Kyle step into that time bubble, knowing what would happen. And we both know what'll happen if you don't get this transplant."

Sarah sighed, feeling like she'd gone another ten rounds with that machine from '84. "Everyone dies, John," she said softly, touching his cheek and knowing she didn't deserve to. "And not everyone dies a hero's death like your father."

John shook his head, covering her hand with his. "You're a hero, Mom. Kyle knew it, I know it, so does everyone who matters." Before she could argue, John eased her palm away from his face, lowering her hand while still keeping it laced with his. "Look, it's not about death. Yes it's inevitable, but it doesn't have to happen now. Not yet. That's the point, you're not Kyle. You dying from this…there's no meaning in that, no greater good that makes it okay."

"There usually isn't, John."

"Mom…Kyle saved you so you could protect me. And you have. You saved me so many times. I need to save _you _for once. Because I can't…I live with what happened to Kyle. I'm not going to be able to live with the fact that I could've saved you and I didn't. I swear, I can't handle that. If you don't want me to have the Cortexiphan then I won't, but _you_ need it. We'll deal with any side effects the same way we've dealt with everything else. But don't make me stand back and watch this happen to you when I might be able to stop it. Don't make me live with that. Please. _Please_, Mom."

* * *

Their bedroom door was open. Sarah hung back, leaning against the frame and observing her lover. Olivia was sitting on the bed with one leg tucked under her, pretending to be engrossed in whatever was on the laptop in front of her. Sarah cleared her throat to show the façade wasn't necessary. Olivia looked up at her. The blonde's eyes were covered by the black-framed glasses, but those did nothing to hide the swirl of conflicting emotions there.

Sarah stepped a little further into the room, green eyes meeting green for long moments. "All right," she finally said, barely above a whisper.

There was no need for elaboration. Tossing the glasses carelessly against the comforter, Olivia stood up and crossed the room, arms wrapping tight around the brunette. Sarah held her back, kissed her cheek, took away the few tears that cut a path down Olivia's skin. She rocked them a little and Olivia let her. She'd collapse if Sarah weren't holding her, she knew that without doubt.

"This is just a chance. You know that," Sarah whispered close to the blonde's ear.

Olivia nodded against the other woman's shoulder, burying her face in the crook of Sarah's neck and dropping a gentle kiss there. "Chances are all we ever had." All they'd ever needed.

Sarah's only response was to squeeze Olivia tighter.

Eventually Sarah separated from the blonde long enough to get to Savannah's room. She'd cried herself out with Olivia again and she was curled up on top of the bed, still in her clothes. The main light switch was off and Sarah moved soundlessly in the darkened room, stopping at Savannah's bed. She took a seat at the edge and waited. Savannah didn't wake and Sarah grew impatient. She could let this go until morning, but she didn't want to. So she stroked the hair out of Savannah's face until blue eyes opened and locked on her.

Savannah was so different from John in moments like this. The latter had generally shied away from Sarah's attentions. Savannah had spent her early years with a cyborg that acknowledged her existence and played at physical affection only when it suited her needs. Where John was smothered, Savannah was starved. And she leaned into Sarah's hand when the brunette rested it on her cheek. Sarah relished the contact, ignoring the fact that it probably wouldn't be happening if Savannah weren't half-asleep.

"Sit up for a minute. We need to talk." Savannah did so without complaint, but she also woke enough to remember where she was, what had happened, and she shrank away from Sarah's touch. It was an expected response, but it still hurt. The pain only worsened when Sarah turned on a small lamp on the desk, bathing them in soft light. The tear tracks were still visible on Savannah's cheeks, and her eyes were bloodshot from crying, close to her hair in color.

"I need to revise that promise I made you. Anything but time travel. When I said that I wasn't thinking about the Cortexiphan." A pause. "I can't let John take it. I can't. If we were talking about you, the answer would be the same. I can't do anything that risks you or John or Olivia. I can't live with that. You understand?"

Savannah nodded wordlessly.

"I wasn't trying to lie to you. I'm going to fight this. But there are things other than time travel that I can't do, things that go too far. I need you to try and accept that. I need you to try and trust me to know what those things are."

Another nod, preceded by a longer pause. "You said John. _John _can't have the drug. What about you?"

"_I_…want to stay with you, like I told you before. You don't know how much I want that. And you, you need to remember that. If the transplant doesn't work or if the drug…changes me somehow." Briefly Sarah flashed on the person she'd been before Olivia, the person the Cortexiphan might reawaken. "No matter what happens, you remember I love you. All right?"

Last time she said that to the girl, Sarah hadn't gotten a response. Now she got a bone-crushing hug that couldn't have felt better. Savannah leaned into her and Sarah held on, gripping the redhead impossibly tighter when Savannah gave her response.

"I love you too."


	10. Chapter 10

Agent Lee was leading the taskforce on a long-running serial case. That was the reason this time, for why he wasn't the one to meet Sarah and Olivia. Things remained surprisingly civil between the three as they made their way towards the hospital and Sarah's first Cortexiphan treatment. Part of it was down to Olivia doing what she wished she'd done last time, ordering Sarah to back off of the redhead. There were still a few tense looks exchanged, but little more than that. Sarah was respecting her wishes, Olivia knew that, but she also knew there was more. The brunette was nervous, edgy. She hid it well from almost everyone else, but Olivia knew the signs, what to look for. The shroud of quiet apprehension surrounding Sarah was so thick, almost impenetrable. Not even the prospect of a verbal sniping match with her lover's twin was enough to do the job.

They reached the hospital ahead of schedule, using a back entrance and a series of empty hallways. Most of the hospital personnel were unaware of the Cortexiphan work being done here, and until the results were more of a certainty, the plan was to keep it that way. A possible cancer cure using an experimental drug that was known to wreak havoc on its recipients, that wasn't a small thing. When they got where they needed to be, Sarah dropped a wry comment about hospital rooms being equally depressing no matter which universe they were in. This was immediately followed by the arrival of a nurse, who looked between the two Olivias with raised eyebrows.

"Twins," Sarah explained quickly, gesturing from one to the other. "Olivia and…Bolivia." Nodding and sparing a few seconds for introductions and small talk, the nurse handed over a hospital gown before taking her leave.

"_Bolivia_?" the redhead repeated as soon as the door closed. "What the hell kind of a name is Bolivia?"

Sarah shrugged. Her reply lacked the venom that'd been present during their initial meeting. "It's a country. In South America. I assume they taught you something about geography before you went to Quantico."

"I know all about Bolivia. Before Fringe Division I used to work drug cases, smuggling rings. Lived there for a year."

"Huh. I lived there for two. Worked with my own share of smugglers."

"Drugs?"

"Guns," Sarah corrected. "World had enough problems with Skynet in its future. No point making it worse by helping the people who were going to have to fight it kill their brains with cocaine."

"A smuggler with standards. Nice." The redhead smiled as she said it, negating any sting the words may've otherwise had.

The brunette shrugged again. "I tried. Had to shoot an ATF agent once. Put the bullet in a place that wouldn't kill him."

"A benevolent gun smuggler with standards. I'm sure he was grateful to you for that."

"Later he probably was. There was a lot of bleeding and cursing right after it happened."

After that, the redhead stepped outside to take a call. When they were alone, Olivia regarded her lover with raised eyebrows and a baffled expression. "What was that?"

"You said be nice. That was me being nice. Making conversation."

"Uh-huh. Conversation about the FBI agents you've shot."

"One agent. Singular. And I didn't talk about shooting _her_, did I?"

True enough. Progress came in small steps sometimes. And the return of her alternate put a stop to any further arguments that Olivia might have made.

"That was Peter," the redhead announced. "He and Walter were detained for a few minutes, but he says they'll be here soon."

"Detained by what?" the blonde asked.

"By _whom_, actually, and that would be Walter. He apparently decided that he absolutely _could not _do this properly without grabbing a root beer float first."

"Of course he couldn't," Sarah drawled. "Well. Gives me time to make myself presentable," she said, holding up the gown and then retreating into the tiny bathroom.

"Listen," Olivia said haltingly once she was alone with her alternate. "I wanted to apologize. For what happened last time. I…I was having an incredibly bad day. We'd just found out Sarah was getting sicker and I just-"

"Hey," the redhead interrupted. "I get it, I told you that. Forget about it."

She'd been so angry that day. At the doctors for being the bearers of bad news, at Peter for not telling her everything about the Cortexiphan. At her mother's God. At Sarah. And she couldn't act on any of that. She'd been so angry with the other Olivia for so long that it was easy to remember that old resentment, give herself an outlet so she wouldn't implode. "I'm sorry."

"I said don't worry about it. I had a stepfather too, remember? And he was just as much a bastard as yours was. He'd rough me up and then as soon as I started to heal, he'd do it again, somewhere different. But at least the new bruises took my mind off the old. Sometimes it's easier to pick at the old scabs than it is to deal with the new ones."

Olivia nodded her thanks, sharing a moment of silent kinship with the other woman.

"Anyway," the redhead continued in a completely different tone. "I wore your underwear for three months while I was over on your side, so let's just say we're squared up."

Olivia cracked a smile as Sarah exited the bathroom. The look became half grin, half grimace when Sarah spoke her next words.

"Two universes, one of which is vastly technologically superior to the other, no one on either side figures out how to make a hospital gown that actually closes. Why is that?"

The red-haired version of Olivia Dunham, always quick to quell a tense situation with what some would call inappropriate humor, raised her eyebrows and gave a shrug. "Because people like me need to get their cheap thrills somewhere?"

"Use the Internet like everyone else in both worlds."

"Everyone else. Does that include you?"

"I hate computers. Spend less time looking for cheap thrills and more time doing your research, you might know that."

Offering a smirk and a teasing salute, the redhead turned towards the door as Walter and Peter made their appearance. "Hail, hail, gang's almost all here."

"Very exciting day, isn't it?" Walter asked after greetings were exchanged.

"Been looking forward to it all week," Sarah deadpanned, perching herself at the edge of the hospital bed with Olivia hovering nearby.

"You seem tense, my dear," Walter observed. "Perhaps you'd like some root beer."

"No, Walter," the younger Bishop argued, shaking his head as his father held an almost-empty plastic cup within Sarah's reach. "She doesn't want root beer, she wants to get this done before you get hit with your next hourly snack craving."

"That's very rude, son," said Walter, frowning in disapproval. "What gives you the right to speak on Sarah's behalf?"

Heaving a deep sigh Peter turned his attention to the brunette. "Sorry, Sarah, I shouldn't have done that. Would you like to sample what's left of the beverage my father spent the last ten minutes slurping down and blowing bubbles with in the car?"

"Thanks, I'll pass."

"Pity," said Walter. "They're quite delicious Over Here. Some small variance in the formula, a unique ingredient I've yet to isolate."

"Not for lack of trying," Peter stated. "Before he resumed work on the Cortexiphan, guess what he was doing with the multi-million dollar lab equipment over at Massive Dynamic."

"You really should try one sometime," Walter pressed, addressing Sarah as if his son hadn't spoken.

"I'll put it on my list," Sarah replied. "How about we worry about that after we make sure this drug you're giving me doesn't close up my throat?"

"Oh not to worry. None of the other patients have had anything close to that reaction. And even if your airway _did _become blocked, we have ways of fixing that."

"Good to know," Sarah replied, turning her eyes to the woman who looked so much like _her _Olivia. "Almost all here, you said. Anyone besides Hastings missing?"

Her voice hardened on the name of the doctor she'd seen last time, the one who wanted John to have Cortexiphan. It amounted to shooting the messenger, she knew that, but Sarah retained hostility towards the man nonetheless.

"Actually he's not the one assisting today," said Peter. "He's only one member of the team that's been helping us, and somehow I got the impression that he wasn't your favorite guy in the world."

"Good call. The other guy any better?"

Peter shot her an enigmatic half-smile. "I think so, yeah. Think you'll agree."

That statement was followed by a knock at the door. Without waiting for a reply, the doctor stepped into the room. The red-haired version of Olivia Dunham stood closest to the exit, and was therefore the first person the woman really focused on.

"Twins," the redhead stated, nodding to her blonde counterpart. "That's Olivia. I'm…Bolivia. Mom thought Olivia was cuter, I drew the short straw when it came to names."

Felicia Burnett returned the smile given to her by the other woman, offering familiar greetings to Walter and Peter and holding her hand out to Olivia. If she noticed the shock on the blonde's face, she must've attributed it to concerns about the procedure. Finally her eyes landed on her patient. "Sarah. I'm Dr. Felicia Burnett. It's good to finally meet you in person."

Sarah nodded wordlessly, shaking the hand that Felicia offered. The double thing shouldn't have shocked her. She'd known of the alternates for years, already been exposed to the other version of her girlfriend. Still, it jarred her, having Felicia look at her without the slightest bit of recognition. Mostly, she was the same as the version Sarah knew, the only significant difference being that this woman seemed to have aged prematurely. Her eyes were more sunken, there were too many frown lines. And this Felicia had a different bearing, a different way of carrying herself. Sarah didn't have time to do a more thorough assessment, because the doctor's arrival had spurred everyone into motion.

They got Sarah to lie down, hooked her up to monitors, an IV. Walter and Felicia talked briefly about dosages, Peter bustled around setting things up and translating between Felicia and his father if the older man started to fall into a too-advanced version of Walter-speak. It was quick and efficient and it reminded Sarah of their time spent living and fighting together, even if _this _Felicia wasn't the one responsible for taking care of everyone's battle scars. The red-haired FBI agent hung around for a few minutes, staying out of the way even though the room was cramped. She and Peter shared a brief, whispered conversation and Sarah saw something flash in her lover's eyes before the blonde managed to get her mask back on.

"Well. I'll be outside when you're finished," said the redhead, once it was clear that things were moving as they should. Her eyes locked on Sarah as she offered a nod and a small smile. "Good luck."

Sarah returned the nod but not the smile. It had nothing to do with any lingering animosity towards her lover's doppelganger and everything to do with the IV drip Peter was about to start The drug was a kind of reddish pink, reminded Sarah a little bit of blood. This was worse though. Blood she'd grown accustomed to. This modified version of Cortexiphan scared Sarah much more than blood ever could.

"Okay," said Felicia, making a last check of the machines monitoring Sarah's vitals. "I know you've been over most of this, but let's do it again anyway. The Cortexiphan is not the thing that's ultimately going to save you."

"That you _hope _will save me," Sarah couldn't help saying. Olivia stood next to the bed with a hand resting on her shoulder, and Sarah felt the blonde's grip tighten at her interruption.

"Right," Felicia agreed, professionalism firmly in place. "The transplant is the ultimate goal, to get you new marrow that will allow you to fight off the cancer cells. But for that to be an option, we need to boost your immune system way above where it's at now. That's where the Cortexiphan comes in."

"Precisely," said Walter. "This version of Cortexiphan strengthens your immune system through the use of chemicals that normally come into play during times of extreme stress. It-"

"It's like adrenaline," Peter interrupted, seeing the brunette about to lose patience with his father's explanation. "Adrenaline gives the body an added boost of energy, especially in high-stress situations. I know you know something about that."

"A bit," Sarah replied, ignoring the second's worth of confusion that was visible on Felicia's face.

"Okay," said the doctor, without questioning the cryptic look that passed between Sarah and Peter. "What we're doing, what it'll feel like to you, is an adrenaline rush. We're essentially jumpstarting your body's natural defenses to attack. There are two basic things you need to be aware of here, so do you want good news or bad news first?"

"Good news," Peter answered for her. Seeing the look on Sarah's face, "Go for the good first, switch things up a little bit." When Sarah gave a tight nod, Felicia continued her explanation.

"The good news is, you should start feeling better between treatments. Have your normal symptoms been getting worse?"

Sarah looked away without answering immediately, so Olivia took the reins. "Yes," she said, forcing her voice to stay even. The nosebleeds had increased in frequency. More bruises were starting to show up. The nausea was becoming a bigger problem.

"That's normal for this stage in the disease. Fortunately, the Cortexiphan will slow the kind of deterioration we expect to see at this point. Fewer nosebleeds, less fatigue, less trouble keeping food down."

"Sounds great," Sarah said carefully. "So what's the bad news?"

"If you know about adrenaline, you know there are side effects when you get overloaded with it. Dizziness, tremors, anxiety-"

"I'm familiar with those, yeah."

"All right. Then the bad news is that you're going to become much more familiar with them. You'll feel better between treatments, but immediately afterward, you're going to crash. Problem with adrenaline rushes is that they don't last. Eventually you have to come down."

Olivia exchanged a look with the brunette. "Well, coming down from a little adrenaline doesn't seem so bad."

"Oh no," Walter agreed, suddenly choosing to rejoin the discussion. "Not at all, all things considered. But did I forget to mention that along with the adrenaline, there will be moderate to extreme pain?"

Peter shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We were just getting to that, Walter, but thanks for saving us the trouble. You should moonlight at the medical schools around here so the students can see how _not _to handle bedside manner." Sucking in a frustrated breath, the younger Bishop addressed Sarah and Olivia. "Unfortunately, there _is _pain involved, especially during the first few treatments. But that'll ease as your body develops a tolerance for the drug."

Sarah still wasn't sure she wanted to take the Cortexiphan enough times to build a tolerance for it. She was halfway to saying just that, but Olivia spoke first.

"Can't you give her something for it?" she asked, turning imploring eyes on Peter.

"Would if I could, you know that. But we've tested this backward and forward, and if we throw anything else into the mix, we risk counteracting-"

"I'm fine," Sarah interrupted, speaking to everyone in the room. "I'll be fine. I can handle it."

"It _will _get easier as the treatments go on," said Walter. "I promise you that."

Easy to say when he wasn't the one getting pumped full of the stuff. But he looked and sounded genuinely sympathetic, so Sarah couldn't muster the will to snap at him. "And how long do the treatments go on for, before we do the transplant?" she asked instead.

"Three times a week for the next four to six weeks, depending on how quickly your body responds to the Cortexiphan," Walter replied.

Sarah closed her eyes, felt Olivia's hand on her shoulder tighten again. "Looks like I'll have plenty of time to grab that root beer, Walter."

They asked if she had any more questions. She didn't, but almost wished otherwise. Olivia's hand found hers as Peter checked the IV again. Sarah felt his eyes cut to her and Olivia, just for a second. Then he exchanged a few words with Walter and Felicia, and the Cortexiphan was dripping into her veins. She didn't feel like Superman, there was no sudden rush of strength. She only felt cold dread knotting in her stomach as she stared at the IV bag, watched the Cortexiphan do its work, wondered what else it might do besides healing her. If it would save her, only to turn her into a lesser version of herself. Then Olivia's free hand was on her chin, gently urging Sarah's face in a different direction.

"Don't," she murmured. "Look at me. Focus on me."

Sarah did so automatically. Focusing on Olivia had become an ingrained response. For a few seconds it was just them, just green eyes on green. Then Walter was speaking to Olivia, in a voice full of quiet resolve.

"She's going to be all right, Olivia. I promise."

Olivia nodded, needing desperately to believe him. Sarah was his penance, at least in Walter's eyes. If he could save her, it would equal some kind of repayment for what Olivia went through at his hands. If he could use the drug that had so affected Olivia's life in a way that made Sarah okay, Olivia knew that any residual anger she had towards Walter would fade off into nothing. The Cortexiphan trials were a bad part of her past. Sarah was her future, and if the drug could help keep that future alive…no misdeeds from thirty years ago would compare to that.

Felicia stepped closer, resting her hands on the bar at the side of Sarah's bed. "We're going to take care of you," she said softly, holding the brunette's gaze.

Olivia was stroking her palm with one hand, pushing her hair back with the other. Sarah enjoyed the contact, lips curving in the barest hint of a smile as she looked at Felicia. "You always did," she murmured.

* * *

After awhile, after they'd attained relative certainty that Sarah was as okay as it was possible for her to be, the others left them. Her vitals were still being monitored, the Bishops and Felicia would rush back in at the slightest abnormality, but for now it was just Sarah and Olivia.

Olivia had pulled up a chair, was still stationed at Sarah's bedside. She'd let go of the brunette's hand, only because Sarah made her. The other woman was curled up on her side, back to her lover. Her hands were hidden somewhere under the blankets. She was trembling. Badly

"I guess Felicia lucked out on this side," Sarah declared suddenly.

She was clenching her jaw, Olivia could hear it in the way she spoke. Her voice was tight, as was her body. She was as close to the fetal position as Sarah Connor was ever like to get. "Sorry?"

"Felecia. Never met me here, not until today. She's obviously top in her field, Peter wouldn't have brought her in on this out of loyalty to…to our version. She stays away from me. Still has a career. I saw a wedding ring when she was hooking me up to the monitors. Meanwhile, _our _Felicia lives in the middle of nowhere with a gun under her pillow, probably hoping like hell that I never call her again."

"True. But don't you hope like hell that you'll never _have _to call her again? And if you had to, she'd come, you know she would."

"Yeah. I don't have to kidnap her at gunpoint anymore. We're practically gal pals."

Olivia closed her eyes, gave herself a few seconds. "The woman who walked out of here doesn't get to know that she helped save the world."

Sarah started to chuckle. It turned into a gasp. "We both know how much that can mean. Or how little." A pause. "How long has it been, since she left?"

Olivia felt like dying. Apparently Sarah did too, because she wouldn't have asked otherwise, wouldn't need to know how much time remained before the others came back, before this was over. "It'll be finished soon," Olivia promised, though she had no right to say it. She didn't know how much longer this had to continue. She'd been concentrating on Sarah, and she was too scared to check her watch. It felt like they'd been here for hours, but Olivia knew that had to be wrong.

"I should kill Walter,"

Eyebrows raising, Olivia leaned forward in her chair, a bemused smile pulling at her lips in spite of the situation. "Sorry, I just flashed back to about a hundred Monday mornings when Peter would walk in the lab and say the same thing." Quick as it came, the smile disappeared, and Olivia once again lost all hints of levity. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it would be this bad."

"It's not," Sarah said, curling in on herself a little more as a tremor worked its way down her spine. "For me. I'm talking about the kids. You. He did this to you, you couldn't stop him."

"So therefore you should kill him?"

"I'm considering it."

Olivia released a noiseless sigh, wishing desperately that she could climb into bed next to Sarah, hold her until the pain stopped. But the brunette was hypersensitive right now, in more ways than one. Olivia wouldn't get near unless Sarah let her. "Remember, this isn't the same stuff he gave to me. It's a derivative, but it's different. What I had didn't hurt like this."

"How would you know, you barely remember those trials. Maybe that's why, maybe he hurt you and used one of his hypnosis techniques to block it from you."

"He didn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because he wouldn't be able to do that, physically hurt me like that. Me or any of the others."

"And injecting you with a drug that caused you to set fires with your mind doesn't qualify as physical harm?"

"He loves me. You know that." Sarah gave the barest hint of a nod. "I love _you_"

Sarah nodded again, would've returned the sentiment if she could. But the drug had elevated her heartbeat and she couldn't seem to get enough air. Against her will, her breaths started coming short and fast. She clenched her hands in the bedding and bit her tongue until it felt like it would bleed.

Olivia was up and at her side in one fluid motion. Placing her palm against Sarah's back, she glanced quickly at the machines monitoring the woman's vitals. They hadn't hit danger levels yet, but the possibility was there. And if the others came flying back in here, that would only make things worse. "Slow it down," Olivia said, forcing calm and speaking just loudly enough to be heard over Sarah's ragged gasps.

"Trying."

"I know. It's just the adrenaline."

"I know."

"Slow it down," Olivia repeated, putting her free hand on Sarah's arm and shifting the brunette until Sarah was lying on her other side, facing Olivia. "Look at me." Lifting one of Sarah's hands, Olivia placed it against her own chest, letting Sarah feel the slow, even respiration there. "Deep breaths. In and out," she instructed, lengthening the pattern of her respiration to demonstrate. "Breathe, Sarah. Just breathe."

"I know how to breathe, Olivia."

If Sarah was coherent enough to snap at her, then the situation couldn't be too dire. "I know you do. Now do it slower." Olivia brushed wild hair out of green eyes, held them with her own until she started to see some of the panic recede. "There you go. Easy…easy. You've got it…you're okay. You're okay, just keep it slow. In and out."

Eventually Sarah's body relaxed, except for the hand that rested on Olivia's shirt. That clenched tighter until the blonde sat down on the bed, leaning down to kiss away the pain lines on Sarah's forehead. She let her palm slide to Sarah's cheek, let Sarah hold her hand in place there, tried to ignore the fact that the other woman's hand was cool and shaking.

"Goddammit," Sarah cursed, even as she leaned into the welcome warmth of Olivia's skin.

"Hey. Slow. You're okay."

"I'm not. Been too long. Forgot what that felt like."

It took a moment for Olivia to figure it out. "You're angry because you haven't had a reason to be in agonizing pain for a few years."

"I'm angry because I've gone soft."

"You haven't. That's not possible."

"Says the one who lived the impossible every day for six years."

"There are limits. How do you feel?"

Sarah thought about lying. She could barely do that with Olivia on her best day. This was definitely not her best day. "Headache. You're spinning a little."

"Close your eyes." Olivia just barely felt Sarah's head shake against her hand. "Close your eyes. _Rest_. I've got you," she stated, running a thumb along Sarah's cheek.

To her credit, Sarah at least tried to listen. Then the pain got bad again. "I hate that you know, people telling me to breathe."

"Sorry. You start hyperventilating and my advice options are a little limited."

"That's what everyone kept saying when I was in labor with John. Breathe. Keep breathing. I'd been doing that for three hours before anyone showed up to notice. Hadn't helped then, didn't help after."

"If you're trying to distract yourself, you could try telling a story that _doesn't _involve pain."

"Not enough of those," Sarah said quietly. "Besides, that hurt worse than this. Gives me perspective."

Mentally shaking her head, Olivia freed the hand that was resting on Sarah's cheek, using it to adjust the blankets. "Go ahead and tell me then."

"Not much to tell. It hurt. A lot. I was alone for most of it. Thought I was going to die." More importantly, she'd thought _John _was. "I remember thinking about Reese, how badly I wanted him there. Half the time I thought about him holding me, helping me through it. The other half I wanted him there so I could break his hand."

Olivia smiled a little, finding one of Sarah's hands and taking it in hers. "Well," she said, kissing the other woman's wrist, near the place where her pulse was beating. "You didn't die. And you're not going to die now," she continued, lips brushing the back of Sarah's hand. Engaging in a silent conversation with the brunette, Olivia got the answer to her nonverbal question. Leaning in closer, she quickly joined her mouth with Sarah's. The contact was brief and light, which didn't do anything to detract from the meaning behind it. Olivia didn't actually need to speak her next words, but she did it anyway, refusing to let there be any doubt. "And you're not alone. You _won't _be. For any of this."

* * *

Not long after that, Felicia returned. Sarah couldn't remember the last time she'd been so relieved to see the woman, even if this wasn't the version she knew. The drip was disconnected and the pain disappeared soon enough, but the other stuff stayed. The tremors, the dizziness, the things that used to happen after a particularly close call, usually involving the lives of John or Olivia. The doctor wanted her to stay, recover from the side effects of the adrenaline. After a few hard looks from her lover, Sarah agreed to that much, but managed to convince Felicia that she could be taken off the monitors. The doctor was reluctant, but eventually gave in. Sarah hadn't expected that, honestly. The Felicia she knew wouldn't have caved. There'd been so many times that they'd clashed over Sarah's medical treatment, and Felicia won the arguments more often than Sarah liked to remember.

She got her way this time though, and found herself in the bathroom again, swapping the flimsy hospital gown for the clothes she'd arrived in. Once dressed, she splashed cold water on her face, holding tight to the edge of the sink. Her hands still shook, knees too. She bowed her head and tried to breathe, but her chest still felt tight.

"Sarah?" Olivia's voice came from the other side of the door. It was soft, but there was a definite edge of worry there.

"I'm good," Sarah replied, clearing her throat to hide the hitch in her voice. "Still have three minutes."

"Two," Olivia corrected.

"Two then. Either way, door's unlocked, try not to go into agent mode and break it down."

"Deal, if you try not to pass out in there."

"Deal."

The blonde had given her a time restriction. Sarah knew she was counting the seconds. Biting at her lower lip, Sarah raised her head enough to study her own reflection. Bad call. The hospital lighting was not flattering, made her look as white as the gown she'd been so desperate to shed. The shirt under her leather jacket was too loose. Her face looked drawn, and when she turned her head a certain way, she could see the hint of a bruise forming above her right eyebrow. Felicia said the Cortexiphan would make that go away. Sarah tried to be happy, but couldn't muster it.

Pescadero hadn't been big on mirrors. Glass and crazy people didn't mix, especially the restless ones like her. But Sarah had managed to catch her reflection enough times while she was there. It hadn't looked entirely dissimilar to what she was seeing now. There were more cuts and bruises then, her hair was a long, tangled mess most of the time but there weren't enough differences for Sarah's peace of mind. Her eyes looked wrong. She looked drugged, because she was. She'd hated that feeling, the one that came after the orderlies jammed a syringe in her leg. The drugs made her weak and dizzy and anxious. Helpless. She felt that way now. This place reminded her of Pescadero. Mental or open to the general public, all hospitals shared a basic look. The bathroom was too cramped, it brought memories of the cell she'd spent so much time trying to destroy. She needed out, but she turned away from the sink too fast and the drug was still screwing with her balance. She fell, waiting for the impact with cold, hard floor. It didn't happen. Sarah hadn't heard Olivia open the door but the blonde must've done it, because suddenly there were familiar arms wrapped around Sarah's shaking body.

Olivia held Sarah up for a few seconds, torn over what to do. The bed would be good, but it seemed too far away. Sarah was shaking and panting and fighting the blonde, even as she tried to clutch Olivia tighter. Olivia ended up resting her back against the wall and simply sliding down, bringing Sarah with her. She was playing a delicate game, trying to keep the brunette from hurting herself without having to crush Sarah against her, trying to create a feeling of security without making her feel restrained. "Sarah, let me help."

"I have to get out of this room."

"You will, door's not locked," Olivia promised. She wasn't sure Sarah heard her.

"I need out, Olivia."

"Soon. Right now you need to relax. The adrenaline's giving you feelings of panic."

"I _know _that." She did. She just couldn't seem to make the link between intellectual knowledge and physical reactions. "I still need out."

"Watch your breathing. We had a deal, remember? No passing out."

Sarah shook her head roughly, hot tears burning a path down cool skin. "I'm so fucking _tired_, Liv."

"I know you are. Shhh. Just let me help, okay? Let me help."

It didn't surprise her, any of it. Not the fact that Sarah was the last to break down over this, preceded by John, Savannah, and Olivia herself. Nor the fact that it took outside forces to bring down what remained of her defenses. But it wasn't just the cancer. Sarah had been carrying more weight than anyone should have to for so damn long. Olivia had seen this a handful of times over the last six years, seen everything crash in with Sarah unable to stop it. The cancer, the drug, those were just the final straws that made her have to let go this time.

Olivia shifted them on the floor until she had Sarah sprawled out in front of her, the brunette's back to her chest. Olivia kept her wrapped in a loose hold, carefully monitoring her lover's respiration. "You with me?" she asked, close to Sarah's ear.

Sarah nodded, trusting that Olivia would notice. The tears had blurred her vision, made the dizziness worse, but both of those things were gone now. She thought she could get up if she needed to, but the urgency wasn't there, and she doubted Olivia would go for it. "It's too much, Liv," she said raggedly, barely caring that her body was starting to calm itself. "It's always been too much."

Olivia sighed, kissing the top of Sarah's head. Her fingers were laced with the brunette's, and Olivia squeezed them a little tighter as she spoke. "I know. Try not to think about it right now."

"Can't. Been trying for years not to think about it. It's always there."

Grimacing at the pain and resignation in Sarah's tone, Olivia forced her own voice to stay even. "Remember when I had that drink with Peter a few weeks after you were diagnosed? I came home, but I'd been losing it for days and I didn't know how to deal. You told me not to focus on what happened in the past or what I was afraid would happen later. 'Just be here with me now,' that's what you said."

A pause, then another tiny nod from Sarah.

"I'm here. I've got you. Always. All right?"

Sarah nodded, sinking deeper into Olivia's body.

"You going to stay with me?"

"Yeah." The voice was tired and rough, but the answer was still true.

'Good," Olivia replied, planting another kiss in wild locks. "Just keep breathing, all right? Slow. Stay with me, that's all you have to do right now. Nothing else matters."

* * *

"You did well," Felicia praised, checking over Sarah's medical chart. She was doing a final run-through before giving the okay for the brunette to leave. "It's scary for all the patients the first time, but it does get easier."

"So everyone keeps telling me." Sarah tried not to fidget as the exam went on. She was sitting at the edge of the bed, with no one but the doctor for company. Olivia was out in the hallway, talking to Walter and Peter. She would've stayed if Sarah hadn't ordered her to do otherwise. Olivia needed a break, whether she'd admit it or not. Felicia meanwhile had moved to stand in front of Sarah. She asked questions and the brunette answered, and then she got distracted.

The sleeve of Felicia's white coat rode up a bit as she flipped through the chart again. There was a mark on her wrist, black and blue. And now that Sarah was paying attention, she noticed another bruise near the woman's cheek. It was well-hidden, the makeup applied almost flawlessly. But Cameron had been good at hiding injuries too, better than Felicia. There' were a few times when Sarah was hit with an unwelcome wave of tenderness, when she'd kissed the battle wounds Cameron received while protecting them. And after the sex and the showers were had, she'd watched the machine use blush and concealer, get her normal teenage girl mask back in place

In short, Sarah knew all about Felicia's bag of tricks. Her eyes went down to the woman's ring finger, saw the diamond glinting there. "I guess you'd know a lot about fear."

Felicia set her clipboard aside, the words and tone giving her pause as she locked gazes with Sarah. "I'm sorry?"

She'd never shot the boyfriend. Sarah never took her at gunpoint, so Felicia never shot the boyfriend. "Your husband, Alvan? Scares you, doesn't he?"

Felicia's eyes widened. She sucked in air the way Sarah had earlier, when it felt like she couldn't. "How do you-"

"Doesn't matter. He doesn't get to do that, scare you. Hit you," Sarah added, nodding towards the bruise on Felicia's wrist. It was on the same hand as her wedding ring. "He doesn't get to do that, even if he is a cop. The redhead outside, the one with the stupid name, she's FBI. She can protect you. So you're going to talk to her, and you're going to tell her about every cut, every bruise he ever gave you. You got it?"

"How…you can't know-"

"And yet I do," Sarah said softly. Getting to her feet, she adjusted the jacket around her shoulders, never losing track of Felicia's eyes. "You don't think you're strong enough to do it. But you are, trust me."

"But…" Felicia stuttered, shaking her head in confusion. "I trusted him once, too," she whispered.

"Well, I'm trusting you to help save my life, so you might want to try doing the same," Sarah declared before walking out of the hospital room.

She met the others in the corridor, spoke briefly to Walter and Peter. And then when those two were gone, she turned her attention to the redheaded Fringe agent. "That doctor, Burnett. At some point before I finish these treatments, she's going to ask you for help with something. And you're _going _to help her."

"Okay then, guess I am," the redhead agreed. She didn't ask for an explanation, but her eyebrows rose towards her hairline. "But what makes you think she's going to ask for help?"

"Because I'm not leaving here for the last time until she does," Sarah replied. "Tell you later," she said off her lover's worried expression. Sarah started walking, forcing the two Dunhams to fall in step with her. "Know any good bars?" she asked the redhead. "I need a drink."

"A drink," the blonde repeated. "After what you just went through."

"Walter said that alcohol was fine. Doesn't know if the Cortexiphan will give me a third arm in a couple of months, but he's thorough enough to make sure that I can drink with it. I'll give him points for priorities. So, any good bars? You can come along if you want."

"You do realize that I'd _have _to come along," the redhead countered. "I go where you go."

"Like I said, you can come along if you want."

"The deal is I take you straight back to the Bridge when your reason for being here no longer exists."

"So tell your bosses I kidnapped you, coerced you into it. My record on the other side, no one will question you."

"There are a few places," the redhead said with a smirk. "But I'm not much for drinking."

"Really. I don't trust people who don't want to drink with me."

"And you'd suddenly trust me if I had a drink with you?"

Sarah shrugged. "It'd be a point in your favor."

* * *

They found a bar, but Sarah caved to her lover's pleas to avoid liquor. She didn't need the drink so much as the time. When she returned home, John and Savannah would hover and ask questions and be worried, and Sarah didn't feel ready for that yet. And so she found herself sitting on a barstool, one Olivia on either side of her, making short work of an overly-talkative bartender.

"Most of my people are regulars. Haven't seen you ladies around here before."

"Special occasion," Sarah replied. "Celebration really."

"Oh great, what are we celebrating?"

Sarah brought her beverage to her lips before answering. "I just finished my first treatment with a highly experimental drug. Very painful, don't know much about what it'll do. Could cause my skin to spontaneously burn off. Can the one with the laughing problem get another?"

Sarah was referring to the redhead. Olivia leaned forward on her stool, watching her counterpart with a bemused expression. The other woman had always been quicker with a joke or a smile, but the one she wore now was something Olivia had never seen before "I think I had a nightmare like this once," the blonde stated, wondering how she'd reached a point in life that caused her to be at a bar with her lover and her doppelganger, the woman who'd stolen her life and seduced the man she'd once been in love with.

Sarah released a quiet chuckle. Every man in the place had checked them out at least once, not to mention some of the women. The sight of her with two Olivias at her side would no doubt be fueling a lot of wet dreams tonight. It would probably be impacting Sarah's dreams too, but she knew much better than to voice that thought.

"What did you say this was called?" the redhead asked as she took hold of the fresh drink that'd been set in front of her.

"Long Island Iced Tea," Sarah supplied.

"Well it's the best iced tea I ever had. What's in it?"

"Everything's in it," Sarah said with a smirk.

"Oh. I'm going to go pee," the redhead said suddenly, wobbling a little as she stood up.

"What?" Sarah asked. Olivia had started giving her a look as soon as she was sure her twin got to the restroom without falling. "You wanted me to make peace with her, this is me making peace with her."

"By getting her drunk?"

"If I can't drink, she might as well make up for it. And she shouldn't be this bad already, maybe they make them stronger on this side. Not my fault she has no tolerance."

"So you get her _that _drink, knowing she has no tolerance."

"She can't stand the taste of booze, you can't taste the booze in that drink. Anyway, she works under Peter's father, I doubt she'll be out of a job."

"And Henry?"

"Peter's got him this weekend, he told me. Are you honestly going to tell me you're not enjoying this?"

"Is this your only means of making peace with her?" Olivia asked, avoiding the question.

"It works. Ex-military guy I knew years ago, Travis. We almost shot each other's heads off once, then we had a few drinks together and we were fine."

"Fine," Olivia repeated. "Didn't you once tell me about a guy named Travis? That you stabbed?"

"I stabbed him a year after I met him. Would've happened a lot sooner if we hadn't had those drinks together."

When the redhead returned, she and Sarah somehow got embroiled in a game of pool. Sarah made a couple shots before the Fringe agent got her turn. She was a little shaky on her feet, and her hold on the cue could've been better. Which was why Sarah's mouth dropped open when the redhead took half the balls off the table in one shot. She actually managed to get the cue ball in the air and over one of the solids that Sarah was supposed to be hitting.

The blonde, who'd been watching from a few feet away, couldn't help grinning at Sarah's stunned expression. "She's a champion marksman. I was too for awhile, when they made me think I was her. Guess the good aim extends to other things. I probably should've warned you about that."

They ended up having a rematch game, which Sarah again lost. By the time that was finished, the redhead had sobered up and gone outside to give Lincoln an explanation for why they weren't back yet. There was a dance floor in the middle of the room and as they sat at the bar waiting for the redhead to return, Sarah noticed that more people were making use of it. A fair few of them were same-sex couples. "Not something you'd see on our side," she observed.

Olivia tracked her lover's eye line, studying the dancers herself. "Crazy as it sounds, I think that might be Walter's handiwork. Once he tore a hole in their universe, I think the people Over Here were more concerned with keeping their world alive than they were about who got to kiss who."

Sarah nodded, observed the other patrons. Then she stood up and held a hand out to Olivia. "Come on."

Olivia looked at the dancers, looked at Sarah as if she'd lost her mind. "You're kidding."

"How often do I really kid?"

"I can't dance."

"Right," Sarah said skeptically.

"I'm serious, I never could. Only unit I ever failed in gym class."

"We're not going to be square dancing, Liv," Sarah countered. She used the nickname on purpose, knowing the impact it would have.

"The drug. You're-"

"Fine now. If you didn't think so, you wouldn't have let me leave." Not after what happened in the bathroom.

"I'm going to be terrible."

"I haven't been anywhere near dancing since 1984. That was the first night I ever got shot at. Believe me, nothing you'd do could be that terrible."

Olivia bit at her bottom lip. If Sarah hadn't suffered through the Cortexiphan dosing earlier, she might've actually said no. But that wasn't an option today, so she found herself being pulled out to the dance floor, grateful that Sarah wore such thick boots.

Some machine that wasn't anything close to a jukebox was playing 'Crimson and Clover,' a version Sarah didn't think existed on their side. It was good though, slower than the ones she'd heard. The music washed over them as Sarah took a too-stiff Olivia in her arms. "I don't have cooties, you know."

Olivia smiled sheepishly, pressing herself more firmly against Sarah. "I don't want to hurt you," she stated, glancing at her feet every few seconds. "You've had more than enough of that for one day."

"Not arguing, but you aren't going to hurt me," Sarah countered, putting her lips close to Olivia's ear. "Breathe."

Olivia did, feeling some of the tension rush out on the exhale.

"Good," Sarah praised, a smile clear in her voice. "Now breathe again."

Olivia did, the air escaping on a laugh this time as she relaxed into Sarah's warmth.

"Good," Sarah repeated, tightening her grip by a fraction. "I've got you, you're not going to hurt me. Just keep breathing and we should be good."

They were, surprising as that was to Olivia. She eventually figured out how to let Sarah lead, and the brunette seemed to anticipate every one of her missteps, even though Olivia herself couldn't. Nor could she deny that it felt good, holding Sarah like this, free of any judgmental stares.

"It's not so bad here actually," Sarah stated. "Music could be worse, people could be more idiotic. Maybe we should relocate, hide away."

She wasn't being serious, but Olivia also knew that she wasn't completely joking. Even though hiding was almost what they'd _been _doing ever since the world didn't end when it was supposed to. They both had their scars, but they didn't have shapeshifters or machines, or universes that threatened to destroy each other. The cancer was a brutal return to reality, a reminder that there were other threats to worry about. "You wouldn't last a week," Olivia quipped. There'd be plenty of time to dwell on the other stuff. "It's almost impossible to get coffee here."

Sarah scoffed, breath tickling the blonde's ear. "In that case, I wouldn't last three days."

The song wound down, faded away. They couldn't do a repeat, Olivia's twin would be back any moment. The music was gone and there was a lull as someone fiddled with the machine it came from. The women stopped moving, but didn't separate.

"Thanks for the dance," Sarah murmured.

Olivia shrugged, ducked her head a moment. "Thanks for agreeing to the Cortexiphan treatments. You know how much…you know how much I need you."

"I do," Sarah nodded. "I know exactly how much."

Sarah kissed her then, trying to prove that the words weren't just words. Olivia allowed the contact, leaned into it. This would never happen at home. Distantly, in the part of her mind that wasn't totally focused on her lover, Sarah decided that there might be a perk or two to having to come here so often for the next few weeks.


	11. Chapter 11

"It'll pass," Olivia murmured, voice low and gentle as she could make it. "Just relax as much as you can."

Sarah nodded once, mutely, gripping Olivia's hand tight within her own. She knew the pain would recede, it always did. And Walter, Peter, Felicia, they were all right about the Cortexiphan effects getting easier to handle. Easier didn't mean walk in the park, and it still spiked at unexpected times, the pain, the panic. That was the worst part, thinking she had a handle on it only to become overwhelmed again. It was emblematic of her life really. At nineteen, she'd thought she had at least a basic grasp on life, then Reese and Skynet burned away those delusions with tales of machines and nuclear fire. A decade or so later, Sarah thought she'd rid herself of the robots, the threat of cold, blackened air. Cameron and Cromartie had come back through time to disavow her of that fantasy.

And then there was Olivia. Sarah had half-managed to convince herself that she could live out the rest of her days with the blonde without having to fight any more battles, at least not this one. She should've known better.

"Okay?" Olivia asked, using her free hand to push Sarah's hair away from her eyes. Olivia had gotten used to spending time with her alternate, to the hard, uncomfortable chair that had become her station over the past couple of weeks. She hadn't and wouldn't get used to seeing Sarah like this, looking small and tired in that hospital bed, needle in her arm and pain lines cutting deep into her face.

"0kay," Sarah confirmed, hoping she didn't sound as ragged as she felt. It was easing again though, the pain that ran through her body along with the Cortexiphan, the desperate need to move and keep moving until she was far away from here, back in her own universe. Forcing a deep breath, Sarah gradually loosened her hold on Olivia's hand, without relinquishing it. "Fantastic," she grumbled, offering a weak smile that negated the sarcasm. Olivia's lips found her temple and stayed there until a knock at the door forced them away.

Peter waited for Olivia's approval before making his entrance. "Everything okay in here?" he asked, doing a quick check of the machines monitoring Sarah's vitals.

"Fantastic," Sarah repeated, using a different intonation than she had with Olivia. Breathing deep again to steady her frayed nerves, Sarah forced her voice to even out when she spoke to Peter again. "Do me a favor, will you? Turn it off before I break it."

'It' was the record player Walter had gotten permission to bring Over Here. He had music to go with it, and at first Sarah had been oddly touched by the gesture, an attempt to give her something else to focus on while the Cortexiphan did it's work. However, the thing had been stuck on a loop for the last twenty minutes, and though she liked the Beatles well enough, they had started to grate on her. Sarah would've asked Olivia to fix the problem, but the pain had taken a long time to let go just now, and Sarah felt better holding on to Olivia than she did about clawing holes in the bedspread.

"Sorry," Peter said, a sheepish half-smile pulling at his lips as he silenced the music. "Walter's been nagging me to fix that thing."

"Might want to get on that then. Thanks," she added once she noticed the look Olivia was giving her. As an afterthought, and because she'd just heard 'Yellow Submarine' more times than she ever would've cared to, "I hate submarines."

It was Walter who responded to her statement, coming into the room a few moments behind his son. There was a spot of what looked like whipped cream gracing his upper lip. "Nonsense. Everyone loves submarines."

"I don't," Sarah refuted. Submarines reminded her of Jesse. Being reminded of Jesse made her want to hit things. "You've got a little…" She let the sentence trail off, touching her own lip to indicate the errant dessert remnants.

"Oh. Thank you," Walter replied, getting rid of the white on his face. "The cafeteria here serves whipped cream with their pudding. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Terrific," Sarah drawled. "I'll have five star meals while I'm sitting here waiting to see if the cancer hung around."

Walter nodded, the sarcasm going completely over his head. "Indeed. Did I ever tell you about that horrid butterscotch pudding they served in the institution? Every Monday was like a culinary torture session. The dessert was almost as painful as the electroshock therapy."

"You've mentioned that," Olivia confirmed, a sad smile pulling at her lips.

"Have I?"

Olivia nodded. "When I first came to get you out of there. And usually at least once a week after that."

"Oh. Well then." Walter's eyes found his son, found the silent record player, then locked on Sarah. "Did you not like the music? I'd hoped you'd find it therapeutic."

Sarah took another breath. He looked so damn hopeful, so hungry for the knowledge that he'd done something right. He reminded her of Cameron sometimes, so brilliant in certain areas, so clueless in others. Fortunately Walter was not a cyborg and she'd never had the misfortune of experiencing any sex dreams about him. "The music's great, Walter. Thank you."

Walter grinned at that before choosing to address his son. "Peter, do you remember when you were a boy, you used to play with your plastic submarine in the tub? You'd laugh and laugh, splash around endlessly."

"Actually that was you, Walter. And it was last week, not when I was a kid. And please, in future, try to remember our agreement to close the door during bath time." Peter shook his head and seemed to shudder a little before turning his attention to Olivia. "So. Plans for Christmas? You going to see Rachel and Ella?"

Olivia shook her head. With everything that was going on, the holiday season hadn't exactly taken priority. "They're going to Chicago to spend Christmas with Greg. Rachel's way of showing Ella that she still has a real family after all the custody fights. Personally I think it'll be a disaster, but since when has she ever listened to me where Greg's concerned?"

Peter offered a wry smirk. "Gee, you don't seem bitter at all."

"Bah humbug," Olivia retorted.

"Peter and I are going to watch _A Christmas Carol_," Walter said suddenly. "Aren't we, son?"

"Yes, Walter. We've been over this."

"And _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_?"

"Yes, Walter."

"The cartoon, the original. Not that dreadful live-action rubbish."

"Yes, Walter. We'll watch all the Christmas specials you want until whatever concoction you've mixed into your eggnog renders you unconscious"

"Excellent."

Olivia spared a moment to enjoy Walter's holiday cheer before broaching a tougher subject. "Does that mean you're not seeing Henry?"

Sarah closed her eyes, tightening her grip on Olivia's hand. The blonde was trying, but Olivia still couldn't pretend that speaking of Henry wasn't like brushing an exposed nerve.

"No," Peter replied with an equal amount of poorly-hidden strain. "Liv," he began, shaking his head and cutting his eyes towards the door where the _other _Olivia waited in the hallway. "Liv's taking him to her mother's."

He trailed off and Sarah battled an unwelcome sense of guilt. "I'm sorry."

Peter shook his head again, waving off the apology. "I'll see him after New Year's." He paused, and when he spoke again there was an extra bit of false levity in his voice. "Anyway, James tells me he's not doing much either. Maybe I can talk him into joining the Bishop Holiday Bash. What do you think, Walter, you like that idea?"

"Oh yes, very much. Do you think Agent Ellison likes figgy pudding? I've had a craving for figgy pudding since the day after Thanksgiving."

"I don't know, Walter. I'll check on that next time I talk to him, okay?"

"Splendid."

Sarah observed Peter and his false enthusiasm. She thought about Ellison and his big extended family, the ones he couldn't contact anymore, ever since he got sucked into her war effort. She thought about dinners with John and Savannah over the past two weeks, how quiet and strained they could get. Then she locked eyes with Olivia while Peter checked her IV drip and Walter started playing 'Yellow Submarine' again.

* * *

"A Christmas party," Savannah said for what felt like the hundredth time.

"It's not a party," Sarah refuted yet again. She was checking on the roast Olivia had in the oven, trying not to burn the house down in the process, and she didn't have time for this now. Savannah had made it quite clear in the week leading up to Christmas Eve that she thought the Cortexiphan might be affecting Sarah's mind. "It's just a few people," Sarah continued, repeating her portion of the script as she closed the oven.

"You two are the most antisocial people I've ever met," the redhead countered. She was standing in the living room, straightening some of the tree ornaments. "For you, a few people _is _a party."

It was Olivia who answered this time. She entered the room from the hallway, carrying a painting in one hand, hammer and nails in the other. "Clearly we have to set a better example for you then, on how to be more sociable."

"_Why_?" Savannah asked, seeming genuinely curious as she wandered over to watch the blonde's activities. "And what _is _that?" she questioned, face contorting as she got a decent look at the picture Olivia was trying to hang over an end table.

"Gift from Walter," Sarah replied, moving to stand next to the redhead. "Two Christmases ago."

"Birthdays," Olivia corrected, absently. "My birthday, two years ago."

"I thought we burned that," Sarah stated, frowning as she looked at the artwork. It was literally painful on the eyes, a barrage of loud, clashing colors with no discernible shape or meaning.

"We didn't," Olivia retorted, wishing she didn't have to be so close to the thing. It was like staring at a strobe light for too long.

"It looks like a stoner painting," Savannah observed mildly.

"Hey," Olivia said sharply, though not as sharply as she would have if she didn't feel a headache coming on.

"What? It's from Walter. That means me calling it that isn't even an insult."

Olivia sighed, mostly because Savannah wasn't actually wrong. Then she stepped back and to the left, giving the others a clearer view. "Does that look straight to you?"

Savannah considered, nodded once. "Looks like someone puked on a canvass, but it's straight."

"How about you keep your art critiques to yourself until after Walter leaves. Be nice," Olivia said firmly.

"I'm always nice," Savannah said with a smirk.

Shaking her head, Olivia turned her attention to her lover. "Nina just called. She'll be here after all."

"She cleared her schedule? I didn't know she did holidays. Thought she just lived at Massive Dynamic year-round, hung from the rafters. Like a bat."

Savannah smirked again, aiming the look in Olivia's direction. "And _I _get the lectures. Why do _I _get the lectures?"

Because it was actually possible to get Savannah to listen to them. Occasionally. The doorbell rang before Olivia had a chance to voice that thought, and she hung back with Savannah while Sarah led the Bishops inside.

"Merry Christmas, merry Christmas," Walter said jovially. He carried a reindeer-adorned cookie tin, which he set down on the counter before joining Olivia and Savannah. His eyes brightened as they fell on the newly-hung painting. "What a lovely piece of artwork. You must tell me where you got it."

Sarah smiled. Savannah covered her mouth to hide a laugh and Peter rolled his eyes while setting aside his and Walter's coats and depositing several boxes under the tree. "You really like it, Walter?" Sarah asked.

"Of course. Just look at the _colors_."

"Hard not to," said Peter.

"Then take it, it's yours."

Walter's gaze shifted from the painting to Sarah, then back again. He shook his head, eyes wide. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly-"

"Sure you could. Season of giving, remember?"

"Are you quite certain that-"

"Positive. Merry Christmas."

Face splitting into a grin, Walter offered his thanks before enfolding Sarah in a hug. She stiffened at first, showed surprise. Then she relaxed a little, returning the embrace. While this was happening, Peter greeted Savannah, then turned his attention to Olivia.

"Brings re-gifting to a whole new level, doesn't it?" he said quietly. "I could say something you know."

Olivia scoffed at the mock threat. "And ruin your father's Christmas?"

It was Peter's turn to chuckle. "Olivia, when I was five, Walter got me so excited over the impending arrival of Santa Claus that I laid awake in my bed all night. Then on Christmas morning, I enter the living room and find absolutely nothing under the tree. Walter proceeds to tell me that Santa is just running late, that if I wait long enough he's sure to show up. So I wait and wait, and only after I pass out and wake up again do I finally receive my presents. Walter was testing the gullibility and the exhaustion threshold of small children, specifically me. So since I was too comatose to truly enjoy my gifts that year, ruining that man's holiday isn't something I'd lose any more sleep over."

"Well the thing is, I know that you pulled the exact same thing on Walter's birthday that first year we started working Fringe Division, so if I go down, you'll be going down with me."

"Damn," he said after a moment's consideration. Then he broke into a smile and pulled Olivia into a hug, lips brushing against her cheek. "Merry Christmas Eve, Dunham."

"Same to you," Olivia replied, her own lips curved in a smile. Then footsteps caught both of their attention and Peter was making his way to John, who'd just come in through the hallway.

"Hey, there he is. More than three weeks back and not one call. I was starting to think you didn't like me."

John shook his head, shaking Peter's hand before exchanging a quick, one-armed hug with the older man. "Sorry, Peter. It's great to see you, I've just been…"

Sarah watched their interaction, watched her son struggle for words. He couldn't say 'busy' because he hadn't been, hadn't done much of anything since arriving here. But he seemed to have problems lying to Peter, and Sarah understood why. They were good friends in spite of the age gap, sharing a propensity for mechanical things and smartass remarks. And parental issues, though Sarah tried not to dwell too much on that one. Peter had used his long list of contacts to find John work with people who didn't care to pry into his background, a fact that his next words only served to remind her of.

"Craig called, said he had to throw you overboard."

"Craig exaggerates. Told him I had to take some time off, he told me to take all the time I wanted. I'm sorry. I know you put in a good word for me."

Peter dismissed the apology. "Craig's an ass, it's his only talent in life. Don't waste time worrying about Craig."

While the others conversed, Savannah had made her way to the cookie tin, returning to the living room with a baked good that was dotted with yellow M&M's. "These smell really good, Walter," she praised. She was bringing the cookie to her mouth when Peter swooped in.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, snatching the cookie away. "Let's not do that, okay Savannah?"

"Hey," the redhead protested. "What's the deal?"

Ignoring her question, Peter locked eyes with his father, holding up the cookie. "Walter, remember what we said? The batch with the yellow M&M's are just for you, the one with the green is good for everyone. You recall that conversation?"

"Vaguely," Walter replied, a frown marring his features. "Did I grab the wrong cookie tin?"

"I'm afraid so, Walter." Crossing to the kitchen, Peter put the cookie back in the tin, tapping the lid with his fingers while addressing Sarah and Olivia. "You don't want to let her eat those."

It took a few seconds before Savannah's young features broke into a disbelieving smile. "Nice. He was going to get us all high on Christmas Eve."

"Please don't say that," begged Peter. "Sounds so much more _wrong _when a kid says it."

"I'm not a kid. And you people are crazy," Savannah said on a laugh.

"'You people,' she says, as if she's suddenly above all the madness. I got news for you, kiddo, you joined the same circus as the rest of us when I found you and Walter listening to children's records while he was teaching you how to make boiling acid. Get used to it, Savannah, we're all stuck in Walter's Wonderland together."

Savannah fought him on that, they went back and forth, but they smiled while doing it. Snarky teenager bit aside, Savannah loved Walter as much as she did the rest of them. His antics had always been able to draw a smile from her, even during the exceptionally bad times. They were _all _smiling, Sarah noticed, herself included. That was good. That was why she'd suffered Savannah's confused jibes for the last week. Playing holiday hostess wasn't her usual thing, but these were unusual times. Her agreement to receive the Cortexiphan treatments had lifted a huge weight off her family, but the drug wasn't a guarantee. The chances of this being her last Christmas were still disturbingly high. But having the others here made it less likely that her children and her lover would dwell on that. And if the worst didhappen, Olivia and Savannah would need these people. John would probably run again, and there wasn't much Sarah could do about that. Olivia and the redhead would still be here though, and they'd need support. And Olivia could talk about letting others help all she wanted, but the blonde and Sarah shared too many of the same issues. Olivia might have to lean heavily on the others very soon, and she wouldn't want to. Better to rebuild the old bridges now while things were relatively good. There was never any telling how long the good would last.

* * *

James arrived next, occupying himself by engaging a smiling Savannah in long conversation. The doorbell rang again a short time later. While the others munched on appetizers Olivia had spent the better part of a day preparing, the blonde shared greetings with Astrid Farnsworth.

"It's so great to see you," Olivia stated, setting aside the bottle of wine her guest had brought and embracing the smaller woman. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," Astrid replied, smiling warmly as she shrugged out of her coat. "You think I'd miss this?"

Olivia couldn't help smirking when she saw what Astrid was wearing under the jacket. The sweater was wool, looked horribly uncomfortable and resembled nothing Olivia had ever seen the other woman wear. It was a mishmash of blinding colors with stripes and circles sewn in seemingly at random. Of their own volition, Olivia's eyes tracked to the painting that still hung over the end table, the one Sarah had so skillfully rid them of. The colors and the distinct lack of style seemed rather familiar. Astrid followed her gaze, then they both looked back at Astrid's top.

"Walter?" Olivia asked with a knowing quirk of the lips.

"Walter," Astrid said with a nod. "My birthday, last year. I was hoping I'd lost it somehow."

Astrid spoke to the others, spending extra time with John and James because it had been too long since she'd seen either. Walter told her she looked radiant, apparently remembering this time that her garment had come from him. She had a drink and then went for a refill, ignoring Olivia's order to stay put. The blonde chose not to follow her own advice, joining Astrid at the counter where the booze and the food had been set.

"Astrid, I've been meaning to say thank you." Olivia would've liked to do this in private, but there really wasn't a need. The others were all conversing in the living room and Walter had turned up the volume of _A Christmas Story _to near-deafening levels to drown them out. "I know it's not just Peter and the doctors who've helped Walter with the Cortexiphan. Peter told me you've been pulling double-duty with him and the Bureau. I keep wanting to tell you how grateful I am, but we always seem to miss each other, and things have been so crazy lately. And I didn't want to say it over the phone."

"You don't have to say it at all," Astrid countered, raising a hand to halt Olivia's words. "It's nothing, Olivia. Really."

"It is," the blonde insisted. "It always has been." Astrid was always there, for all these years. In the background most of the time, running errands and doing searches and keeping Walter in check. And doing so much more than that. Finding that one clue that the others had missed. Offering a kind smile and a sympathetic ear when Olivia came back from the Other Side and spent most of her days trying not to fall apart. Holding everyone together when Walter and Peter fought. When they found out that Peter had a child with the _other _Olivia. When Olivia told him she was in love with a terrorist, a woman. Astrid had done so much and Olivia knew that they'd thanked her for most of the little things, but not everything, not all it added up to.

"It's family," Astrid said simply, though she smiled at Olivia's words. Then the smile changed to something uncertain, and Astrid ducked her eyes for a moment.

"What? What is it?"

"It's…it's not just this family," Astrid said haltingly, nodding towards the group gathered in the next room. "My mother, she died of cancer."

"Oh God. Astrid, I'm sorry, I had no idea."

Astrid shook her head in the negative. She was the one who looked sorry. "I was really young when it happened, I barely remember her but…you know. If the Cortexiphan works, if I can help with this thing that helps Sarah, that has the potential to save so many others…"

Astrid shrugged and said nothing else. Olivia didn't need her to.

Nina was the last to arrive. She deposited her gifts under the tree, had a surprisingly civil exchange with Sarah, then pulled Olivia aside, away from the others. "Everything's set up," she said quietly. They were outside the blonde's bedroom, out of view from everyone else. Nina withdrew a set of documents from an inside pocket of her jacket and Olivia took them with a soft smile.

"Thank you. I really appreciate this. And thank you for bringing James onboard." Complaints aside, assisting in the ongoing revamp of Massive Dynamic's security was good for Sarah. The bulk of the responsibility wasn't hers, but it gave her something to focus on aside from her illness and her issues with John. It also forced a reconnection with James, something Sarah needed whether she'd admit it or not.

"James is a highly capable employee, and Sarah has a…_unique _brand of expertise. Nothing was done out of pity."

"I'd never think otherwise. Still, thanks again for this," said Olivia, holding up the papers.

"You're welcome. I hope it helps." A pause, a rare smile from the redhead. "Merry Christmas, Olivia."

Olivia returned the smile. "Merry Christmas, Nina."

* * *

Savannah knocked on John's door twice, entering without waiting for a response. He was sitting on the edge of the guest bed, and he jamming something in his pocket when she came in. Savannah raised an eyebrow without commenting on the action. "Dinner's almost ready, and Walter seems like he's about to break into Christmas carols. Peter says that we should all have to suffer equally if he does, so he told me to find you."

John smiled a little, holding her gaze. "Thanks. I'll be there in a minute."

Savannah nodded, but didn't move from the doorway. They stayed that way for long, silent moments.

"You can leave me alone, you know. Don't need an escort anymore." The words could've been laced with bitter sarcasm but they weren't. There was only amusement mixed with sadness.

"If you're thinking about being alone, then obviously you're not thinking about coming to dinner," Savannah retorted. She shut the door and came fully into the room, then she sat down on the bed. Not right next to him, but not as far away as she could be. "You hardly ever left me alone when I asked you to."

John's smile had been forced before. It stayed in place, but he let it become more wry as he ran a hand through his hair. "Would've been bad for you if I had."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Because it was bad for you?"

"Because it still is," John said quietly. "It's weird. This. Everyone here like this."

Savannah nodded. She'd been saying so for days. It was like Funworld, multiplied by ten. "Usually it's just us. You could've been here, you know. For Christmas, Thanksgiving. Hurt her when you weren't."

She should've sounded angry but she didn't, wasn't even trying to fake it. "I know. Would've hurt her even if I _was_ here."

Savannah didn't contradict him. She was being so quiet, like she'd been when they first took her. The fear was all over her then, constantly. She'd been afraid to speak to his mother and John hadn't blamed her. He'd thought she might've eased up a little after Cameron disappeared, viewed it as a problem solved. She'd only gotten worse though. She dealt with Savannah only when she had to. Ellison was better, but he wasn't there all the time. Their resources were stretched so thin during those first days after Zeiracorp. No Derek. No Cameron.

John wasn't sure when, but at some point Savannah started to feel like his responsibility. Actually that was wrong. He _did _know. After they took her the first time, when he'd had his first real conversation with her. She'd said it was her fault that Derek was dead, that her nanny was dead. That she'd brought the bad men to her house because she hadn't listened. He hadn't known it at the time, but that was the turning point, when something shifted between them. Because he knew how easy it was, to take on all the responsibility, the blame. The death. He knew how quickly the bodies piled up, how easy it was to suffocate beneath them. He hadn't known Savannah then, but he knew he didn't want that for her.

So he'd tried to help, keep her from drowning in worry and solitude when Ellison wasn't around. It was hard though, attempting to connect with her when he'd had it so deeply ingrained that he was supposed to _avoid_ those connections. That's what his mother had been doing. Avoiding closeness with Savannah because she couldn't afford it. Because she used up most everything she had on him. Him and the war.

Then Olivia came in. The others too, but Olivia was the important one. She took some of the burden away from his mother: she connected with Savannah in a way John hadn't been able to. There was a mix of relief and frustration then. Relief because he didn't want the responsibility of keeping Savannah from turning out like him. Frustration because it used to be his job and Olivia took it, did it better than he ever had. John witnessed the effect she had on Savannah and his mother, saw what happened when his mom had someone to lean on. The relationship with Savannah changed, got warmer by degrees. He saw hints of the parent he could've had if Sarah hadn't been charged with so much else besides being a mother to him.

He loved Olivia for doing that, helping his mother and Savannah that way. He loved her for that, but she also hurt him. Because _their_ relationship wasn't like that, never could be. Olivia couldn't heal him the way she'd done for the girl, for his mother. And his mom wouldn't stay healed if he stuck around, if she realized how fucked up he was. She'd try to take his pain like she always did, but it wouldn't work, never had. And when she couldn't take it away, she'd spread it. The hurt that didn't stay trapped in her would spread to Olivia and Savannah.

Like a cancer.

He wasn't the one to save the world. He was _there_, he assisted, but most of the credit went to people older and wiser. Another job taken away from him. There hadn't been as much frustration about that, at least not at first. And afterward his mother and Olivia had taken the child and tried to build something. He was an adult by then, it was time for him to go in his own direction. It was easier than he'd ever thought, leaving. Because he wasn't all his mother had anymore, she didn't need to cling quite so tightly. And she hadn't. Eventually she'd let him go and it felt good, her not needing him in the same way anymore. It felt good, and it hurt like hell.

It was still so muddled in his head. He'd thought being back here might clear up his motives, but after a few weeks of trying to figure it out, he'd gotten nowhere. He wasn't sure if he'd left his mother and Savannah because he was too damaged to be around them or because he'd finally had the excuse, had simply taken it. He didn't think Savannah knew either.

"I missed you," she said suddenly, sounding almost surprised.

"Missed you too," he replied, meaning it. "Sorry."

Savannah shrugged. John was certain then, certain that she didn't know. Didn't know whether he'd run out on them or done them a favor. Because he _had _hurt Sarah by staying away, but he'd also allowed her to focus on herself, on Savannah and Olivia. That wouldn't have happened if he'd been here.

They stayed quiet for awhile longer. Then John stood up, stuffing a hand in his pocket again and looking towards the door. Savannah stood too and they left together.

* * *

As they sat down to dinner, Olivia locked eyes with all of them and raised her glass. She kept it simple, toasted to family and everyone clinked glasses. To various degrees, they'd all scattered after the world didn't end. They'd spent so long in such close quarters, dependent on each other for survival that they'd simply _had _to pull away some, once the opportunity was there. Olivia hadn't realized how much she'd missed her old Fringe colleagues, not until Sarah got sick and they rallied around her again. And she could see Sarah's joy at having John back. Strained as things might be, he was _here_, they weren't sitting across from an empty seat this Christmas. They'd needed to separate, all of them, resume their old roles or find new ones after Judgment Day came and went. Olivia just hadn't known how good it would feel to come back together again. It wasn't perfect, she wasn't oblivious to Sarah's reasons for suggesting this gathering. But Olivia chose to put those aside, as much as she could. They had hope now, the possibility that Sarah would be here to do this again. Tonight of all nights, Olivia had to grab that hope and hold tight. So she ate and she chatted with her friends, and then she served figgy pudding for dessert, much to Walter's delight.

Presents followed food, Walter being the most excited at the prospect of gifts. Sarah presented him with a large collection of classic vinyl. It was a selfish gift really, her wanting something different to listen to in the hospital, when his record player malfunctioned. Walter was happy regardless of her motives, and Sarah couldn't help smiling at his enjoyment.

When Sarah presented Nina with a large, thin box, Olivia couldn't help speaking up. "Sarah picked it out herself."

The nervousness in Olivia's voice both irritated and amused Sarah. "So you're disclaiming my gift and recusing yourself."

Olivia shrugged helplessly, a sheepish smile gracing her lips.

Nina was pleasantly shocked by the painting she received, eyes immediately landing on the artist's signature. The piece of art Sarah destroyed in Nina's office a few years ago was one of a kind, irreplaceable, but she'd managed to find something that came from the same hand.

"Thank you, Sarah. This is…very thoughtful."

Again Sarah was torn, between satisfaction at catching Nina off-guard and offense at the surprised faces of everyone around her. Still, she nodded at the redhead's look of gratitude, enjoying the feel of Olivia's fingers squeezing hers.

Nina presented James with a custom-made leather briefcase, in honor of his new position. To Savannah, she offered tickets to the musical _Wicked_, aware of the girl's fondness for _The Wizard_ of Oz.

"You can come to New York," said Nina, eyes drifting between Sarah, Olivia, John and Savannah. "Make a day of it."

"You're spoiling her," Sarah chided.

James answered, giving the brunette a small smile. "It's been a long couple of years, don't you think?"

"Been a long couple of _decades_," Sarah retorted.

"Well then. I think we could all survive a little spoiling."

"I'll drink to that," Peter proclaimed, following words with action.

Walter, displaying a surprising knowledge of what his son would actually like as a gift, fell back as he usually did on Peter's childhood. The elder Bishop presented his son with a set of rare coins, recalling how Peter had collected them as a boy. Peter didn't bother pretending that he wasn't touched by the gesture. Sarah was happy for the Bishops, not so much for herself. She didn't know what John liked anymore, aside from computers. She didn't have the knowledge or the desire to go that route, so she ended up giving cash and a motorcycle helmet, and an only half-joking promise that she'd get him a truck if he traded in the bike. John gave her a flack jacket. He tried to pass it off as a gag but they both knew the truth. They _didn't _know each other anymore, neither of them. Sarah brooded about that for long minutes before Olivia squeezed her hand and spoke close to her ear.

"He's saving your life and you're letting him. I think you're covered on the gift front."

Sarah relaxed some after that, watched Savannah open the iPad she and Olivia had gotten her. It was the latest model, and John had 'modded it out' with a bunch of features that wouldn't normally be there. She and John hovered over the thing while other gifts were exchanged and they were still at it when all the presents had been opened, when Sarah was taking care of a few dishes.

"Here," said Peter, holding out his hands and stepping in front of the dishwasher. "Let me take those."

"Be my guest," Sarah replied. She'd had her fill of dishes and waitressing. "Thanks," she said, putting her back to him so she could pour herself a drink.

"No problem."

He started the dishwasher, was about to walk away from her. "I'm sorry," Sarah pronounced before he could leave. "That you're not with Henry."

Frowning, Peter turned and joined her at the counter, grabbing a glass from one of the upper cabinets. "I told you, Liv's got him at her mother's. It's not-"

"I've talked to her. The other one." Sarah felt a twinge, referring to the redhead that way. But she couldn't use that nickname, even if her girlfriend's doppelganger preferred it. "I know how much time you've missed with him because of me." She'd spent too many Christmases away from John, lost too much time. What they did have together, it hadn't been like this.

"It's not you so much as it is a bunch of misbehaving cells with an attitude problem. And I can't say why the idea of you and Liv getting all buddy-buddy terrifies me, only that it does."

Sarah scoffed, sifting through the long line of bottles until she found what she wanted. "Buddy-buddy is pushing it. A lot." It was harder to say that when she thought about Olivia's present, still hidden in their room. They'd chosen to exchange gifts privately, give themselves something to look forward to in case the night turned into a total disaster.

"Either way," said Peter, "don't worry about Henry. He understands."

"Does he?"

"He understands that I'm doing my best to help a friend who's a little under the weather."

Sarah filled her glass, releasing a wry chuckle. "There's one way of putting it."

Peter offered a sad smile that was also laced with fondness. "He told me to tell you that he hopes you feel better soon, wanted to know if you'd like a get well picture."

Sarah returned the smile, not caring in that moment that she didn't know the boy, not even caring about the union he'd been created from. "Love it. I'm sure it would be better than the one from Walter."

"Of course, you've got to give the kid more credit than that." In a different tone, "Look, I'm going to have plenty of time with Henry. I'll _make _time. After we're sure that you get to have plenty more time with John and Savannah."

It was a good moment, the kind she wasn't used to sharing with him. Sarah sipped her drink and made a noise of approval. "Walter was right," she said, answering before Peter could ask the question. "Said the drug might make the drinks taste better going down, don't ask me how."

"As a general rule, I try to ask as few questions as possible where Walter's concerned," Peter replied, nodding toward the bottle in front of her and sliding his glass across the marble countertop. "Do you mind-"

Sarah cut him off with a smirk and a shake of the head. "I have cancer, make your own damn drink."

He did. Then he produced a deck of cards and joined John and Savannah at the living room table so he could demonstrate the art of counting them.

"I can do that too, remember," said Olivia, walking past them on her way to the kitchen. "Did it ever occur to you that I might've had a reason for not teaching Savannah?"

"Obviously," Peter retorted, eyes ablaze with mischief as he looked at her. "The reason being that I am and always have been more fun than you."

Olivia had just reached Sarah's side when the back door opened. A blast of cold air preceded Astrid and James into the house. "It's freezing out there," said the blonde. "What were you two doing?"

They both stepped closer before answering. "You're going to want to keep Savannah inside," Astrid said in a low voice, a bemused smile pulling at her lips. "Walter and Nina are out there smoking something they both insist they have prescriptions for."

"Which I suppose is why Nina doesn't mind doing it in front of me," Ellison added.

"You're not FBI anymore. You signed a contract. She gave you a case. " Sarah countered. "She owns you now. And if she didn't, she could buy you ten times over. _That's _why she doesn't care."

He didn't bother accusing Sarah of overstating things. After Astrid and James had joined the others in the living room, Sarah turned to Olivia. She still had her drink, watched the blonde pour one of her own. "I once considered leaving him in a burning building you know," Sarah stated, nodding towards Ellison.

"No, you didn't," Olivia refuted. "Not seriously."

"Not seriously, but still. Now I'm spending Christmas Eve with him. He's here, your ex is here teaching Savannah how to cheat at poker, and two of the most powerful people in the world are smoking a joint in my backyard."

Olivia smiled ruefully, taking a sip from her drink. "I'm sorry. Maybe this wasn't the best idea."

Sarah shook her head and smiled in a way that was only meant for Olivia. "No," she argued, raising her glass slightly. "I'm happy."

The words and the look filled Olivia with her own sense of warmth. Grinning, she touched her glass to Sarah's and reveled in the moment.

* * *

Hours later, Sarah sat on her bed with a leg underneath her, a present in her lap, and a smile pulling at her lips. It was close to midnight and the guests were gone. John and Savannah had retreated to their rooms. Now she sat across from Olivia on the mattress, passing over a small, carefully wrapped box.

The blonde took the gift, returned the smile, tore delicately at the paper until she revealed a jewelry box from a store she didn't recognize. When she removed the cover, her breath caught. There was a necklace inside, a chain bearing a green pendant. The stone wasn't huge, she'd never been one for bawdiness, but its size wasn't what got her attention. The necklace caught the light in ways she'd never seen, shifted into different shades of green as Olivia watched.

"Matches your eyes." The words were soft, uncharacteristically self-conscious. "The way the shades change…" Sarah trailed off. She couldn't explain it properly, she only knew that she'd spent years studying those eyes, learning the secrets behind them, watching them change with Olivia's emotions. The necklace came as close as any material thing could to reflecting the beauty there, the intricacy.

"It does." Olivia held the chain delicately between her fingers, meeting a different pair of green eyes. "And it doesn't exist here, does it?"

Of course Olivia would notice. "Nope, exclusive to the Other Side, don't ask me to pronounce the name of the stone."

"When did you get this?" She couldn't think of when Sarah would've had the chance, when she could've slipped away. Then something else occurred to her. "You didn't…the other Olivia. Did she…?"

Sarah ducked her head, flashing briefly on Charley, on John picking out her engagement ring. "I chose it. She just confirmed that she'd like it. And if she'd like it, I figured you probably would too."

"And you needed _her _to confirm what I'd like?" Olivia couldn't resist. This was a rarity, Sarah being unsure of herself. Olivia couldn't miss the opportunity to have some fun.

"You hate me now," Sarah declared flatly. She was bad at gifts, always had been.

"Never," Olivia refuted, leaning in to press her lips against Sarah's. "Thank you," she murmured after long moments of delicious contact. "It's beautiful."

"That would be you," Sarah stated, planting another brief kiss against Olivia's mouth. When that contact broke, Olivia held the chain out in silent request. Sarah nodded, accepted it, waited for Olivia to shift. When she was facing the other woman's back, Sarah pushed blonde hair to one side, exposing the soft skin of Olivia's neck. She paused a moment, running the tips of her fingers along one particular spot. The tattoo they'd given her on the Other Side was long gone, but the outline was still visible. To Sarah, it symbolized all the scars her lover still carried from that time in her life. "I thought you could use something good from Over There. For a change." Watching her suffer through the Cortexiphan treatments on the Other Side would hardly generate fond memories for the other woman, but the dance at the bar had shown Sarah that that place and the things that existed there weren't all bad. She'd pushed Olivia's hair back in the kitchen, when they made love and then played True Confessions. The mark hadn't registered, not really, Sarah had been too preoccupied. But she'd also replayed those moments countless times in the last few weeks, searching for pleasant thoughts to get her through the pain from the Cortexiphan.

Olivia caught her breath again as Sarah clasped the chain around her neck. She knew the cool metal was resting against the tattoo. Sarah had commented on that when they first met, said it looked out of place on her. The brunette had started to know her even then, even during those first few hours. Olivia turned her head until she was kissing Sarah again, tangling her fingers in unruly locks. Her lover responded eagerly enough and Olivia lost herself in sensation for a minute, until she realized that Sarah was trying to ease her down against the mattress. With a lot of effort and some regret she pulled away, her breaths coming slightly ragged. "Haven't given you _your_ present yet."

"I was working on getting that," Sarah said with a smirk, hand trailing along Olivia's left hip.

"Stop," said Olivia, struggling to put some firmness behind her voice as she caught Sarah's wrist. "For now," she added, smiling playfully as Sarah eased off of her, coming as close as Sarah Connor ever would to a pout. Olivia left the bed long enough to grab a stack of papers from her nightstand drawer, and then reclaimed the space in front of her lover. "Sorry, I didn't have time to wrap them."

Sarah took the documents with raised eyebrows. They contained specs on a property, a cabin she'd never seen. There were photos too. Multiple stories, a loft, porch that ran the length of the building, a boardwalk that led down to a lake.

"Four bedrooms, three baths. There's a gym. Plenty of space for weapons storage. Firepit in back, perfect for burning endos. And the place comes with a boat, so if we have to we can make a break for the lake."

Sarah half-laughed because Olivia was only half-joking. The blonde knew her too well. She couldn't speak though, so she waited for her lover to fill the silence.

"It's in New York, upstate. Empty indefinitely, so we can use it whenever. Obviously I didn't sign anything without you, but I've arranged it so we can go there sometime, see how we like it. We like it enough, it could be ours." A pause. "You said you wanted to hide away. In the bar, Over There. And you've told me how much you used to love your mom's cabin."

Sarah _had _loved the place in Big Bear, though her mother's murder by the first terminator had definitely tainted that affection. "I did, but you could fit three of those cabins into this one. And there's no way we can afford this." Especially considering the amount she'd dropped on Nina's painting. The woman had exceedingly expensive taste. Then something clicked in Sarah's head. "Nina?"

"It's a company retreat for Massive Dynamic executives, yes."

"Hence the tickets for Savannah, the incentive to visit New York. If she's talking to you about purchasing this, she must be giving you quite the discount."

"She is. Says it's repayment. To you."

"For what?" Sarah asked, confusion clouding her features. "Trashing her building?"

"Yes, actually. She said to thank you for checking out Massive Dynamic first instead of going straight to her apartment and shooting her in the head."

Sarah let out a wry chuckle. "I thought about going the other way, trust me."

"I know. So does she. But aren't you glad you didn't?"

Sarah laughed again, set the pages next to her on her on the mattress. "I thought I was doing pretty good this year, a necklace and a painting. Only to find that you two bought me a house."

"_Rented_ you a house, for the time being, but that can change if we want it to." Olivia took one of Sarah's hands, taking it in hers and stroking the knuckles with her thumb. "I just thought it might be good for when you get better. You and I and Savannah, John if he wants to, we can just go. Be away for awhile. Breathe different air." Figure out how to be a family again, assuming John went for it.

"Alone in the woods," Sarah mused, "No one but ourselves for company. You sure we wouldn't kill each other?"

"That's the beauty of having so much space, room to escape if necessary." Olivia paused, letting go of Sarah's hand to push blonde strands out of her eyes. "We don't have to," she said, momentarily examining the bedspread. "It's just an idea, there's no-"

Sarah placed a finger on Olivia's lips, stopping the word flow. She spared another half-glance at the cabin photos. "Fireplace," she noted. "Before the machines, when I still had room in my head for it, I had a fantasy involving a fireplace."

"Meaning you wanted sex in front of one."

"Yeah. That."

Olivia smiled wickedly. "Everyone has that fantasy. You ever make it happen?"

Sarah shook her head. "Used a fireplace to heat something up when I had to cauterize a bullet wound once, that's about it."

"I'm pretty sure I can give you a better time than that. If you want."

"I know you can," Sarah said quietly. One of her hands drifted to the chain on Olivia's neck. Sarah traced the stone with her fingers and kept going up. She mapped the blonde's collarbone, her shoulder, her neck. "And I want."

That was all it took. They were slower this time at removing their clothes. The possibility of a cure had removed some of the urgency, the concern that this would be the last time they were together this way. Still, the printouts showcasing the cabin ended up scattered on the floor, and neither woman paused long enough to care. When Olivia's shirt was gone, Sarah kissed and licked her way up the same path her fingers had taken before. Then she made new ones, let Olivia do the same for her. For a short time, she thought about the cabin, how it would be good for her family to go there if the Cortexiphan didn't work, if she didn't make it. Then Olivia's teeth found her nipple and Sarah stopped thinking about anything that didn't involve pleasure.

They kissed, enjoyed the rush of skin on skin, reveled in the heat between them. They were naked, but the green of Olivia's necklace still shone between them. Sarah watched it move with Olivia's breaths, which were becoming more and more labored. She needed to be on top and Olivia let her. The Cortexiphan _was _making her feel better between treatments. She hadn't been this strong in awhile. Olivia didn't even ask her to stop, confirm that she was okay. In fact she had a very different reaction, the one time Sarah paused, overcome by an urge to really _see _the other woman.

"Sarah?" It was more a plea than a question. The brunette had two fingers buried deep inside her and a thumb over her clit, and suddenly she'd halted.

Sarah kissed Olivia's neck, her jaw, the corner of her mouth. "Hmmm?"

"You stopped," the blonde replied, her words leaving on a gasp.

Sarah put her forehead against Olivia's, joining their mouths together. "Not stopped," she promised after the contact was broken. "Never stopped. Just watching you for a second."

It'd been several seconds actually, all of them too long. So Olivia raised her knee, enjoying the heat and wetness and Sarah's gasp. She withdrew then, repeated, kept it up until Sarah was rocking against her and moving within her again.

Sarah was getting off against her and no matter how many times it happened, Olivia always marveled, considered it the greatest thing she'd ever seen. The sight alone would've been enough to finish her, even if Sarah hadn't resumed her activities. Olivia crashed then, pressing herself tighter against Sarah and biting her lip against the cries that wanted to escape.

Sarah watched her, watched her eyes go wide and slam shut, watched the emotion play out when they opened again. The stone really didn't do those eyes justice, but it was the best Sarah could find. Olivia's climax undid her and Sarah quickly followed suit.

After Sarah caught her breath, she began to move her hand, the one that was trapped between Olivia's thighs. The blonde halted her, slightly shaking fingers drifting downward.

"Don't," said Olivia, stilling Sarah's wrist. She hadn't realized what she meant to do until it happened. "Not yet."

"Okay," Sarah whispered, hardly needing to be convinced.

Eventually Olivia's body let go and Sarah regained the use of her dominant hand. She used it to pull the blonde close. They rested on their sides, facing each other, Sarah's arm draped over Olivia's torso.

"So you like the cabin?" Olivia asked. Her voice was slow and heavy with the weight of impending sleep.

Sarah chuckled and laid a kiss on Olivia's forehead. "Yes I like the cabin. I like you more."

Olivia smiled, Sarah's contentment mirroring her own. "Good to know."

"That would be you. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Sarah."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **In my little AU neck of the woods, the Connors did in fact have that dinner with Kacy. And yes, this is actually relevant to the plot. Thanks for all your support, you guys rock, please be kind and leave some feedback on your way out. Thank you muchly.

* * *

She called for her son twice before seeking him out. New Year's had passed a few days before. It was celebrated quietly and privately, and despite the lack of guests as a distraction Sarah had been in good spirits, choosing to accept the possibility that she might live long enough to repeat the holiday rituals. Her good mood persisted in the days that followed, though she'd missed Savannah last night. Olivia's niece and sister had returned from Chicago and Savannah had stayed the night at their place, remained there now. So Sarah made pancakes for three instead of four, except John's were getting cold.

She opened his door and immediately discovered why his sleep was unusually deep. He lay on his side facing away from her, a pair of headphones over his ears. They were expensive, top of the line. A gift from Peter, who'd mentioned at Christmas that he used to suffer from sleep problems.

John paced the house at night. Sometimes when she cracked the door, Sarah heard him muttering in his sleep. The words were always indistinguishable, but the tone didn't speak of good things. She'd seen him with the headphones a lot, sometimes with music blaring at ear-splitting decibel levels, sometimes with the noise cancelling function activated. Either way he was trying to drown out the demons in his head and Sarah ached for him. She fought the same battles, but she had Olivia's low, gentle voice in her ear, chasing away the ghosts and the nightmares when they got too close.

The headphone bothered her. Shutting out the world could also mean going deaf to the dangers there. But Sarah kept her mouth shut. She couldn't soothe him herself, couldn't quite find it in her to chastise him for seeking something that might get the job done. She came in here sometimes while he slept, whether the nightmares were present or not. She couldn't see his face at the moment, but she didn't need to. When he was younger, his features would smooth out during sleep, making him look vulnerable and innocent and peaceful, reminding Sarah of how much was at stake. The vulnerability remained, but not the other things. The peace he'd had as a child was an illusion. There was always war and it had taken whatever innocence John once had. He frowned in his sleep, his face never relaxed. He curled up, trying to protect himself from something. Sarah knew that he wasn't getting away from it, cursed herself for being unable to shield him. She'd defended him against blows, bullets and robots, but she couldn't fight away the imprint those things had left on him.

Debating the merits of waking him, Sarah's eyes fell upon a pile of dirty laundry in the corner. She'd said something the last time she was in here and John said he'd take care of it. Sarah shook her head and went for the clothes. Oddly they made her feel better. John had grown up in ways she would've preferred to avoid, but in this regard he was still fifteen, still the boy he'd been before most of the scars came into being.

Sarah bent for the laundry, had it in her arms when something hit the floor and caught her eye. Setting the garments aside again, she reached for what looked to be a photo. It was facedown, but she could still see that it was old, worn. John must've stowed it in a pocket. Sarah picked up the picture, saw what it was. Her heart skipped and her breath caught in a ragged hiss of air.

Cameron.

It was a side profile; the machine was looking at something to the right of the camera. Sarah recognized Kacy's backyard. The barbecue. It was the only time that made any sense, the only thing that explained the photo's existence. Derek wasn't there, but John and Cameron were. Sarah made excuses as long as she could, but eventually Kacy's pleas had won out. It was a surprisingly good day, one of the last they had before things with Jesse and Riley blew up. Sarah didn't remember pictures being taken, would've protested if she'd known. But here was Cameron, gone for years but suddenly here, in the home Sarah shared with Olivia.

The cyborg had her head tilted, a tiny frown pulling at her lips. She'd been looking at something she didn't understand, trying to make sense of some mundane human behavior that wasn't covered in her databases. Sarah knew that expression, had found it both endearing and infuriating depending on the day. Cameron would get that look in bed sometimes, when Sarah asked her to do certain things. Sometimes Sarah broke the rules, reciprocated. Cameron's face in those moments had been distinctly different. Sarah remembered being scared in those times. Scared because Cameron didn't look or act like a machine when Sarah touched her. Sarah was terrified by that look, but at some point she'd developed an addiction to it. It was awful, but she kept wanting it. That look was representative of her entire fucked up relationship with the machine.

"Mom?"

She hadn't heard him move. She was out of practice, and she'd developed a bit of a blind spot where Cameron was concerned. Deaf too, apparently. Fucking machine was so dangerous to her. To John. Sarah turned too fast, didn't think to hide her discovery. Cameron caught her off-guard, made her sloppy. John was sitting up in bed, headphones gone from his ears and resting at his neck. His eyes were blurry for a second as they blinked away the fog of sleep. Then he saw what was in her hand.

Sarah watched his gaze sharpen, his eyes widen, watched the maelstrom of emotions that swirled there. Surprise came first, then shame, as if she'd caught him at something instead of the other way around. Sarah guessed that she had. Anger, sadness and defiance warred for control of his expression, but there was no clear winner. John's eyes kept darting between her and the picture. Sarah felt like tossing it down, like it was burning the flesh of her palm. Instead she clenched it tighter, adding new creases. She thought of Kyle, the way he carried her picture for years, that old, tattered photo. He'd fallen in love with an idea, a story, an image of a woman from another time. And now John was carrying Cameron's picture. Cameron who'd disappeared somewhere in time, who neither of them had really known, who kept secrets from everyone. And then there was the secret she kept with Sarah, the one they shared as their bodies moved between the sheets of Sarah's bed.

Eventually John's eyes stopped moving, locked on his mother. They were trapped in silence for long moments. Sarah broke it first. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

It wasn't fine, hadn't been even before Cameron took off. "I made pancakes."

"I'm not hungry," he said, voice full of badly-concealed gruffness. "I'll take care of the laundry."

Sarah nodded without moving. She _had _to move, had to at least talk. Her legs were suddenly unreliable and whatever energy she might've used for talking was being redirected to more essential functions. Breathing was harder than it should be.

"I need to get dressed." John stood up and threw the headphones to the bed in one fluid move. Once on his feet though, he stayed unnaturally still. Like Cameron, when she'd stood guard at one of the windows.

Sarah nodded again. The motion was stiff. Mechanical. She made her limbs work, paused at the dresser. She deposited the picture there, and then she was gone.

Olivia met her in the hallway. The blonde had grown tired of waiting to see what was taking so long. She caught a glimpse of John in sleepwear with his fist clenched and his head down before Sarah closed his door.

"Hey," she said, voice heavy with concern as she took in the look on Sarah's face. "What's wrong?" Her lover was suddenly pale. Olivia would've worried about a new spike in the illness if she hadn't noted that John's coloring was similar.

Sarah looked at her for half a second, all she could manage. "Not now," she replied curtly, doing a perfect about-face and retreating to their bedroom, closing that door as well.

Olivia stared at the place where Sarah had been for long moments. For Sarah to brush off others that way, that was normal. But Olivia hadn't received that treatment in quite a long time. She might've confronted Sarah if John hadn't emerged from his room just then. He was fully clothed, slipping a jacket over his shoulders. The quick change would've been impossible for most people, but John's upbringing made it a necessity. He caught Olivia's gaze, holding it even more briefly than his mother had. Then he sidestepped the blonde and headed for the kitchen. Back door was the nearest way out.

Olivia followed him, needing to know what was happening here. She'd seen the Connors have it out before, but usually there was yelling involved, after their anger had simmered a good long while. She couldn't understand how things had gone this wrong this fast. "John, wait. Please."

He halted a few steps from the door, turned abruptly. It was clear that it took effort for him not to snap. Tight shoulders heaved as he took in a rough breath of air. His eyes closed for several seconds before he answered. "Not now, Olivia. Sorry."

Then he left, all but running into the cold Boston morning. Olivia watched him from one of the windows until he was gone. He kept walk-running, didn't even take the bike. Confusion, worry and frustration fought each other in Olivia's head as she retraced her steps, pausing at the entrance to the guestroom. Guilt hit her for a moment, but she went inside anyway. He'd left the door open, she knew Sarah well enough to realize when questioning would be futile, and her instinct after years in law enforcement was to always check the scene of the crime.

The haste of his departure was evident. His bed was unmade, the clothes he'd slept in made a trail from bed to door, and some of his drawers were still open. The keys to the motorcycle were on the dresser and next to those…

Olivia took the picture in her hand. It was an automatic, unthinking move, as if the machine in the photo had some sort of power over her. Maybe she did, maybe that was why mother and son had been so drawn to the metal that looked like a human. Olivia had only ever seen surveillance images from the bank, the jail. Cameron looked so different here and Olivia felt something twist within her. She was seeing the machine as Sarah had, probably for the first time. It gave new context to her lover's encounters with the cyborg. It made them real, crystallized that time in Sarah's life in a way Olivia hadn't seen before. Olivia studied the picture, instantly understanding why she'd been left to eat alone. She wasn't hungry anymore. Her gut was still twisting and no matter how many times she breathed deep and closed her eyes, the sensation wouldn't go away.

* * *

Sarah beat at the punching bag until her hands were ready to split. There'd be bruises tomorrow, finally from something other than cancer. The exertion did nothing to quell her inner turmoil and she ended up spending too long in the shower, almost scalding herself with water that was far too hot. She'd _burned _the fucking machine. Years ago. And still Cameron could do this, push Sarah to places like this.

She dressed quickly, towel-dried her hair. It was still a little damp when she left their room and when she saw Olivia sitting forward on the couch with a studiously blank expression, Sarah wished she'd taken some extra time. She so looked forward to the coming discussion that she almost turned on her heel and retreated again. Instead she went to the kitchen, drank some water, felt Olivia's eyes tracking her the whole time. The blonde said nothing. It was a simple technique, one Sarah had seen her use with Ella and Savannah, one she herself had employed on John countless times. It shouldn't work. But there were a lot of things Olivia could do that shouldn't have worked on Sarah.

"Has John called?" she asked. She was behind the kitchen counter and she stayed there, as if physical cover would make a difference.

"No. Were you expecting him to?"

"No."

Olivia nodded. Waited. Then she went to the kitchen, still keeping the counter between them. She was used to having to chase Sarah down, understood too well the importance of not spooking the other woman. "I saw the picture."

Olivia was being deliberately neutral. Sarah grimaced anyway, studying the marble for a second.

Olivia waited again when Sarah reestablished eye contact, got nothing. She hated having to push this hard. Before the cancer she hadn't needed to, not in years. "Are we going to talk about it?"

"It's an old picture, that's all it is. There's nothing to say."

"Nothing to say. And that's why John stormed out of here?"

"John's all grown up now. I couldn't keep him from storming away even when he wasn't."

"And you? You've been actively avoiding me because there's nothing to say?"

Sarah shook her head, spread her hands a bit. It was a gesture of surrender, though that wasn't really what she was doing. "I'm right here, Olivia. I don't know what you want. You're attacking me because John had a picture in his pocket."

"I'm not attacking you: I haven't done anything, because you ran before I could. That's what you do, Sarah, you run. And after everything that's gone on between us, I have to say that it hurts, you still doing it with me."

Sarah clenched the countertop. She used too much force and her hands screamed in protest. She tightened her grip. "You want to ask me why? You know why, I've told you. _Just _you. You think I wanted to do that, you think I didn't want to run from _that_?"

"I think you _did _run, and you always have, and you never stopped. Those talks we had, those were just you tricking us both into thinking otherwise." Olivia paused, took in a steeling breath. "There was this girl at the bar, the night we met. We'd just started talking and she walked past and you gave her this look."

Sarah bit at the inside of her mouth. She knew what this was, pretended she didn't. "I don't think it's fair to criticize me for looking at someone else at that stage in our relationship."

The sarcasm irritated Olivia, but that was all. She was too used to it by now. "She looked like Cameron. Obviously I didn't realize that until later. They weren't twins but the hair was the same, the build."

"And you need me to explain that? We met a few weeks after Zeiracorp. A few _weeks_. Cameron was always following us around whether I wanted her to or not. Me thinking she'd come through time again isn't exactly far-fetched."

Anger and frustration were upping the volume of Sarah's voice. Olivia lowered hers, justifying it as a defusion mechanism but not quite able to make herself believe the lie. "You still do it," she said quietly. "I don't even know if it's conscious, if you haven't compartmentalized to the point that you don't realize what's happening. But you do it, whenever we pass someone who looks like her. And when it's _not _her, for a split second you…"

"What? What, Olivia? Breathe a sigh of relief? Because _that's _what I do. If you choose to see that another way-"

"Stop lying, Sarah. Stop _running_. I think we're past that now," said Olivia, chin jerking in the direction of John's room, of the tattered photo within. "What would you do? If someday it _was _her, what would you do?"

"It's been six years, Olivia, and Cameron's gone. I destroyed her, I don't know what else you want."

"You and John were gone for eight; do you think Charley Dixon expected you to come back? And you burned a body, not a chip. Not _her_. So what would you do if she came back?"

"Are you honestly asking me that?" The words were slow in coming. Sarah could barely believe the question. "You think what? That I loved her? That I'd choose her over you?"

No, not really. But Olivia did think about other things. She thought about Sarah having someone that was practically invulnerable, who she didn't have to worry about. Whose sole reason for being was the protection of John and the destruction of Skynet. Who could give her endless physical pleasure, but required nothing in return, physically or otherwise. "I think that you want to hate Cameron, but you _don't _hate her. I think there's a whole spectrum of feelings between love and hate and that yours aren't as clean-cut as you want them to be."

Sarah fought the anger that threatened to engulf her. She hated the shrink treatment, especially from Olivia who hadn't been there for any of what they were discussing. She focused on the anger, ignored the other feelings that came with Olivia's words. "If Cameron came back, I'd ask her what the hell took her so long. Then I'd burn her again, properly this time. And I'm not sure you want to talk about unresolved feelings."

It was a warning, an opening. Olivia knew where it led, held on to the futile hope that she was wrong. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how you can't see Peter together with the _other one _without wincing. You talk about hidden feelings, but you still try to hide _that _from me." Sarah paused, thought of the picture that started all this. Thought of the other Olivia getting that call from her son during their first trip to the hospital. "You can't see Henry either."

The situations weren't exactly comparable and they both knew it. She shouldn't waste the time on a counterargument, risk getting distracted like Sarah wanted her to. "It's not the same," Olivia said anyway because Sarah had struck a bad nerve and sometimes pain won out over rationality. "Peter and I have history, yes. Some parts are good, some are incredibly painful, but whatever the case, it's always going to be there."

"And I've always accepted that. Did the two of them hurt you so badly that you can't return the favor?" The anger was still there, but a soft sadness had crept in as well.

Olivia shook her head. Sarah's gentleness made her want to let it go, trade warm compassion for angry defensiveness. She couldn't do that though, no matter how much it would simplify things. "The difference is that I acknowledge my feelings, how complicated they are. You don't. You run. And you only run when you think you have a reason to. I know you, Sarah; I know why we met, why you were in that bar. Cameron hurt you when she left. She couldn't hurt you if you didn't care."

Sarah closed her eyes, bit at her tongue. Olivia was getting too close to things that weren't meant for her. "Cameron was a machine. Hurting people is what they do. There was nothing different or special about her."

It was a blatant lie. Olivia marveled at the other woman's ability to say it so easily, so stonily. "What you say you did with her, sex for the sake of sex, that's not you, that's not how you work. Maybe to an extent, in the beginning, but you can't really look me in the eye and tell me that's all it was between you."

"Can't I, Olivia? What do you think I've been doing all this time?"

"Lying," Olivia said simply.

The reply could've sounded flippant or hurt or angry but it didn't. It was just _there _hanging between them, and Sarah was seized by an overwhelming urge to get rid of it. "You don't know me as well as you think. Sex for the sake of it, you think I'm above that? I'm not. Some nights, some of the men I was with for John's sake, sometimes it wasn't all for him. And it wasn't just once or twice, it wasn't an aberration, it was a pattern. Didn't happen all the time, but still a pattern. It was me needing to feel something, using others to do it. So don't put me on a pedestal as this selfless hero who only cared about John and the war. Reese did that and I think I hate it more now than I did thirty years ago."

"I'm not Reese. And believe me, I know you're not perfect. And I still don't believe you."

Dammit. The woman reminded Sarah of a machine sometimes, never backing off no matter how hard Sarah tried to end the issue or get away. "Well I don't know why. You should believe. What do you think I was doing with you that first night?"

Olivia felt like she'd been tossed through her windshield again, hurled into unyielding asphalt with tiny pieces of glass embedding themselves in her skin, cutting all over. It was like the air had been stolen from her lungs even though she knew that Sarah had told another lie. Her eyes blurred, but Olivia still saw the look on the other woman's face, how badly Sarah wished to take back what she'd just said. The brunette was a dirty fighter when she wanted to be, pulled no punches when she felt trapped in a confrontation. Sarah had been too careful with her that night, too aware of Olivia's emotional state for Olivia to think she hadn't cared. Sarah had kissed away the tear Olivia couldn't keep at bay. She'd been gone by morning, but she left a note. Olivia knew without asking that none of the others got that much, not even Charley Dixon. Knowing these things did little to help. Sarah had the ability to make her feel better than Peter or John Scott or anyone else ever had. The problem was that Sarah could also hurt her more deeply than anyone else. In this world or the other.

Sarah flashed on all those times she'd been told that she wanted to die. It was true in that moment as she watched Olivia try to keep her face from crumbling. The effort was a failure, so Olivia put her back to Sarah and headed for the living room. So _fucking_ stupid. Sarah's fears of becoming one of the machines were reawakened as she realized what she'd done. In her desperation, she'd caused more damage than Cameron or the other machines were capable of. "Liv. Olivia."

Sarah was following her. Olivia stopped walking without turning around. She didn't need to see Sarah's face to recognize the guilt there. Remorse didn't help. Olivia's frame shook a few times before she was able to get it under control. "Is that it? Do you feel better now?" She attempted to hide the crack in her voice, failed miserably, then decided she didn't care.

"I didn't mean that." Sarah wanted to reach for the other woman, hold her and murmur apologies until the words sank in. She didn't do that, knew Olivia wouldn't let her. "You know I didn't mean that."

"Yeah. Of course you didn't."

The hollowness there, the bowed head and defense posture, it scared Sarah, hurt her, made her wish she could hurt herself more. "I love you. I _love _you."

"Yeah. But you didn't on that first night, did you?"

What happened next was incredibly cliché. That was actually Sarah's first thought in the moments that followed. That it was so incredibly fucking cliché and contrived. "I didn't run because I loved Cameron," Sarah said, before she knew the impact her words would have. "I ran because I was _fucking _a goddamn machine. _John's _machine, the one _he _sent back. I don't know how I'm supposed to live with that, except to run from it. If you have any suggestions, feel free to let me know."

They were in the living room, facing away from the door that opened onto the backyard. If they'd stayed in the kitchen, they would've seen the door opening. And if Sarah weren't feeling better between Cortexiphan treatments, if she hadn't felt well enough to fix the hinges just after Christmas, they would've heard it. And if John hadn't left in a hurry, if he'd taken the bike, they would've heard that, too, would've heard his approach. But things were as they were, and Sarah didn't realize her son was in the doorway until he sucked in a harsh, ragged breath. When she heard that, Sarah whirled, so did Olivia. They both saw the shock, the confusion, the pain, the anger and betrayal, though neither of them would ever find an adequate term to describe the look on his face.

* * *

The jukebox was too loud. It assaulted his ears, worsened the pounding in his head as he slammed back another drink. None of it was enough to drown out his mother's words though, the ones he wasn't supposed to hear, wished he hadn't. If he'd just come back a few seconds earlier, a few seconds later. If he hadn't come back at all. He thought he'd go with the last option this time. Most of his stuff was still at the house, but he'd grabbed his keys and the bike before leaving again. He didn't need much else; he'd started over with nothing before. His mother taught him that. Savannah would be upset though. John got a refill on his drink, decided he didn't care. Let his mother come up with a story, blame it on him, whatever she wanted. He knew he was being cold to his surrogate sister, but the booze and the disgust crowded out the guilt.

The place was a dive, but it was busy. Loud music to go with loud, rowdy people. John watched an older man with long hair and a beard collide with a blonde woman who looked like she was on something stronger than alcohol. "Sorry," he mumbled, reaching out to steady her and managing to cup a breast in the process.

"_I'm sorry."_

_She kept saying that. It was really _all _she was saying. There were attempts at explanations, but she did a shitty job and having the words repeated didn't make them matter._

"_You're sorry. So what, it was an accident? Did you accidentally…?" He couldn't finish the sentence. He was yelling and he knew it, knew Olivia was listening even though his mother had asked her to leave the room. "All that time you spent. You, Derek, Charley, telling me how stupid it was to care about her. What were you doing, making sure you kept her for yourself?"_

"_It wasn't….it wasn't like that, John."_

"'_It wasn't like that,'" he repeated scornfully. "So you didn't love her, right? Isn't that what you said?" He'd told his mom that he loved the machine once, not long after Zeiracorp. It had more to do with, hurting her than any real certainty about his feelings. She'd gotten a look on her face, he thought at the time it was anger, revulsion. Maybe the anger had been jealousy; maybe the cause of the revulsion wasn't what he'd believed. It all looked so different now, the way she shut down after Cameron left, the way she grimaced a little every time they spoke of her. Why she'd waited so long before burning the body. He thought of his mother touching that body, doing the things he'd been made to feel like a fool and a freak for wanting. "Do you still think that she felt nothing, that there was nothing there? Is that what made it okay?"_

"_It wasn't. It _wasn't _okay. I never meant to hurt you."_

John drank again, flooding her words in a burning haze of whiskey. He'd learned to drink on the fishing boat without losing it all in the ocean or on the deck, but he knew he'd had too much. Everything felt slower than he knew it was, everything but his mind, which wouldn't stop racing no matter how much alcohol he poured down his throat. He would've kept trying though, if he hadn't heard the voice.

"Hey, lay off man. What's your problem?"

It was the same woman as before, fending off another groping by the same man. He'd led her to a stool at the bar a few seats away from John. The bearded guy was leaning closer, the woman clumsily trying to pull his hand from her thigh. Her hair was dirty blonde, stringy and unkempt, not like Olivia's. She looked like she'd aged early and the glaze in her eyes matched with the slur in her speech made John think again that she was on drugs. The guy still had a grip on her leg. She looked painfully thin, like she would bruise easily. John stood up. The world spun a little when he did, but he kept his gait steady and his voice firm as he approached. "Is everything okay here?"

The man with the beard kept his hold on the blonde's leg. His other hand curled into a fist. He outweighed John by at least fifty pounds. "Yeah, everything's great. Now go back where you came from and mind your business, will you?"

He reeked of booze. That combined with his own level of intoxication made John vaguely nauseous. He didn't show it. "I wasn't asking you," he said evenly, nodding at the woman. "I'm asking her. Are you all right?" The blonde grimaced but said nothing. John thought he saw the hint of a headshake, but wasn't entirely sure. He heard the whimper though, when the big guy dug his fingers deeper into her flesh. "Why don't you leave her alone man, okay."

The other man smirked, released a derisive laugh. "How about you leave _us _alone, all right hero boy?"

Something inside John went very tight. He remembered stupid fantasies he'd never quite gotten rid of in which he stayed in that time bubble, went after Cameron. Embarked on some noble quest to save her that resulted in her return, her gratitude. Then they'd find a way back to the present after all his trials and tribulations had molded him into the hero everyone was always going on about. "I'm not a hero, and I wasn't asking. Back off."

The smirk froze on the bearded man's lips, something in John's eyes giving him reason to pause. He moved his hand from the woman's leg. "Get the fuck out of here."

The blonde looked between John and her would-be suitor, seemingly unsure of who he was speaking to. John wasn't either, but when he told her to go she listened, never mind the unsteadiness of her steps.

The other man watched her leave with a predatory look before turning his eyes back on John. "We got a problem here, hero boy?"

"No problem, not anymore."

"Yeah see, I wasn't really asking."

The larger man stood up, got in what was left of John's space. John stayed where he was, then felt a hand clamp down on his arm.

"_What the hell is _wrong _with you?" John asked. There was no good answer so he shook his head and turned to leave._

"_John."_

_His mom's voice, her hand on his arm. He yanked it away, whirled on her. "Don't you touch me. Just don't _fucking _touch me!"_

He hadn't done anything more to his mother, though for a split second he'd wanted to. He didn't know who grabbed him, if beard guy had a friend or if it was another patron who had nothing to do with this but saw a cocky kid and a big guy with muscles and didn't want to see the former get his ass kicked. John turned towards the other person for a split second, whether to tell them he could handle this or slug them in the face, John didn't know. He never found out. A fist smashed into his cheek from the other side. He felt a tooth loosen, swallowed his own blood. Then he went on autopilot.

The bearded man only got in that one good hit. He was strong, but John was stronger than he looked. He was fast even now, and he'd spent his childhood sparring with his mother and her boyfriends, learning his lessons like a good soldier. He was also extremely pissed off, and at a certain point he stopped seeing the person he was fighting. Instead he let his assailant become everyone, everyone and everything that had hurt or threatened him since before he was born. Derek had been right, he wasn't safe, he couldn't trust anyone. Not even his mother.

He heard shouts, felt other hands on him. He got rid of them, hit blindly. He remembered Jordan on that roof. How he'd wanted to save her and Cameron wouldn't let him. How his mother sided with the machine. He remembered hating both of them that day, wondered if it had started yet. He couldn't remember now whether his mother had told him when the encounters began.

"Stop it! Would you stop it, you're fucking killing him!"

A woman was saying it, _screaming _it. She broke though the red haze John found himself in because he knew her voice. It was the blonde, the one he tried to help. He blinked and realized he was on the ground, the other man beneath him. His beard was bloody, his face a mess, and John's hands were red. He wasn't sure which of them the blood belonged to. He thought about Riley and that party, the ruse to get him out of the house and at her side. It was a lie. Everything was always a lie. He remembered hitting that other kid, Riley yelling for him to stop, the two of them running out of there. John thought about running now, then felt something press against the back of his skull, heard a click that shouldn't have been audible under the music and the screaming.

"Don't you move."

It was the bartender, John recognized his voice. The first drink he made had been nothing but ice. The bartender had a gun to his head and John was thinking about his shitty drink. He thought about the man who wasn't Sarkissian holding a gun to his head, remembered how scared his mom had looked, remembered how scared he'd been. He wasn't scared now. Wasn't anything really, except maybe a little dizzy. He remembered the gun going off in his old room, knew that his mother and Cameron had worried about suicide after that. He wondered if they'd talked about it in bed together, shared pillow talk about whether or not he would kill himself.

"Get up. Get off him. And get the fuck out of my bar before I call the cops."

He could probably take the gun away, even in this state. He thought about trying for the hell of it, then decided otherwise. He stood slowly, hands up. The gun stayed on him until he was outside, then the barman cursed and told him to stay away. It was night now. He'd rode around most of the day going nowhere, though he'd considered leaving the state several times. This was the third bar he'd visited. It was bitter cold, snow covered ice. John found a slippery patch and fell on his hands and knees in the parking lot. He wasn't wearing gloves and the snow where his hands landed turned red. He tried to get up, puked instead, then tried not to pass out and freeze to death in his own sick.

Eventually he got himself up, the cold air biting into his lungs as he breathed deep and tried to steady himself. He made it to the bike and just sat there a moment, straddling the seat. He shouldn't ride like this, in this weather, it wasn't a good idea Icy city streets were different, that's what his mother said when he first arrived. It wasn't okay to ride like this. Then again, it apparently wasn't okay for his mom to fuck Cameron behind his back, and that hadn't stopped her from doing it. John had a helmet with him. It was old, not the one his mom gave for Christmas. He'd left that in his room at the brownstone, wouldn't have worn it if he had it now. He put on the old one and started the bike.

John didn't know where he was going, didn't care. He wasn't heading in the direction of the brownstone and that was enough. The wind slammed into him but it felt good, like his head was being cleared. The roads were still bad though, and John felt the bike disobey him several times. He shouldn't be doing this. Bad roads, impaired reflexes. But he'd known damn well he shouldn't have been with Riley, had still carried on with it. That ended badly, but there was no war anymore. He wasn't John Connor, future leader of the Resistance. He was a damaged, directionless kid with a mother who'd been lying to him for years, Who'd fucked the machine that he… John couldn't finish the thought. It was enough to realize that if he scraped his knee on the pavement, the world would keep spinning.

He got to an open stretch of road, not much of anything around him. He opened up the throttle, felt the bike shaking beneath him. He wasn't sure what the speed limit was, but knew it was somewhere below seventy miles an hour. He kept up that speed anyway, then pushed to eighty. He'd just hit eighty-five when the deer ran out in front of him. It was a fawn, a baby. Derek told him a story that had a deer in it once, a story involving his father. What would Kyle think if he knew about Sarah and Cameron? John swerved, made a valiant effort to keep control of the bike. He thought of his mother, all her talk of protecting him, of everything in the present and future that would come to harm him. She hadn't meant to hurt him, that's what she said.

It was also John's last thought before he lost the fight with his motorcycle and was thrown into freezing air, then down onto unyielding pavement.

* * *

"He's going to call." Olivia kept saying it, Sarah kept nodding, but the brunette had barely spoken in hours, and her face was unnaturally blank. Olivia sighed as she navigated the gun depot that used to be their kitchen. Sarah was sitting at the table amidst a large array of firearms, disassembling an AK-47. Olivia stopped behind her chair, rested her fingers against tight shoulder muscles. "It's going to be okay," she whispered, dropping a kiss in wild locks.

Sarah put the gun down, covered Olivia's hands with hers. "How?"

Olivia closed her eyes, shifted until she was encircling Sarah's neck in a loose hold. "Because it always is, because we make it that way. We'll do it again."

Sarah nodded without much conviction, took in a shaky breath as she maintained the grip on her lover's arms. "I'm sorry. I'm _sorry_, Olivia."

Olivia nodded, realized Sarah couldn't see it, tightened her grip instead. 'I know." It'd be better to say that all was forgiven, but that wasn't the case. "I love you. We're going to be okay. Everyone's going to be okay."

Another nod that didn't seem to mean anything. "You mind checking in with Rachel?"

The flatness in Sarah's voice disturbed her greatly, but Olivia didn't comment on it. "Yeah, no problem," she said, breaking contact with Sarah so she could take her phone from her pocket. Their single stroke of luck for the day came in the form of Savannah requesting a longer stay with Ella. Olivia was about to get her sister on the line when her phone started ringing. Seeing Peter's name on the screen, Olivia gave Sarah's shoulder an apologetic squeeze with her free hand. "It's not John."

"No, it wouldn't be would it?"

"He'll call," Olivia reasserted. "He just needs some time. We all do." When Sarah didn't respond, Olivia dropped another kiss in her hair before walking towards the living room and answering the call. "Peter, hey. Listen, this isn't the best time."

"Is Sarah with you?"

The urgency in his voice put her on high alert. "Yeah, of course," she said carefully, glancing back at her lover. The other woman had returned to picking apart her guns and Olivia tried hard not to get her attention.

"Can she hear us having this conversation?"

"Yeah."

"Walk away. Right now."

Olivia was already doing that, moving down the hall. Almost anyone else, she would've asked questions first. Not with Peter. She retreated to their bedroom, silently closed the door behind her. Sarah didn't seem concerned. Any other day she would've noticed something was off. This wasn't any other day. "What's going on, Peter?"

He didn't confirm that she'd followed his instructions, didn't need to. "It's John. I think he was on his way to us, Walter and I."

"Was?" Olivia repeated, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm sorry, Olivia. He's been in an accident."


	13. Chapter 13

"How did you find him?"

"He called me, keyed in the old distress code. He wasn't talking; I had to call a friend to get a lock on his location."

Sarah had rarely been more thankful for Peter's old contact network, or for Olivia. It was the blonde asking the questions, saying the things that were trapped behind the lump in Sarah's throat.

"Has he been awake?"

"In and out. Briefly. He's been really out of it. But he's going to be okay."

Peter had been waiting for them in the driveway, in spite of the cold. John's bike was there, turned on its side. It didn't look overly damaged but the sight still caused Sarah's chest to constrict as she breathed in the chill air. Peter was in front of her, leading them to his front door. Olivia was right at her side, but not even that closeness was enough to calm Sarah's jagged nerves. Peter halted with his hand on the knob, half-turning to address her. "Listen to me. It looks worse than it is. Try to-"

Sarah moved without a word, barely managing any level of restraint as she made her way around him and threw the door open. The couch in the living room folded out and Walter was leaning over it now, partially obscuring her view of her son. The older Bishop turned at their arrival, his face a picture of sadness and sympathy. "Sarah."

Sarah ignored him, crossing to John and the sofa in an impossibly short time. Walter backed off some, which was good because Sarah didn't know for certain that she wouldn't have shoved him aside otherwise. Her breath hitched and her steps faltered as she got a proper look at her son. John was covered with a blanket but his shoulders were bare and visible. They were covered in bruises and road burn, deep red gashes marring his skin. There were lacerations on his cheek, his forehead. The left side of his face was starting to swell, as if he'd taken a blow there.

Olivia stood back with the others but she was still close enough to see the endless lacerations and stretches of black and blue when Sarah sat down at the edge of the sofa, lifting the blanket and partially uncovering John's upper torso.

"He's got a few cracked ribs," Peter stated. "His left knee is pretty banged up but nothing's broken there. He's going to need to baby it for awhile though, otherwise we would've moved him up to my room. There's a concussion too, but things would've been a lot worse if he hadn't been wearing a helmet."

Olivia bit her lip as she watched Sarah push the hair away from John's eyes, revealing the cuts and scratches there. Needing to look in a different direction, her gaze fell to the kitchen, the table within. John's clothing was in a pile there. His black leather jacket was specked with grime and blood. His helmet sat nearby and Olivia noted that it's visor was broken. Worse was an understatement. John wouldn't be worse without a helmet, he'd be dead. Walter followed her eye line and then moved towards the table. "I think I'll just store these upstairs for now," he said quietly, taking the helmet and tattered clothes in his arms.

Olivia had half a second to be surprised by the gesture, the awareness that it represented. Then Sarah was speaking and Olivia's eyes went straight to the boy on the couch.

"John?" Sarah said quietly. The sound of his breathing was different. Under all the bruising she could see him starting to twitch. "John," she repeated, halting the movement of her fingers as her breath caught, anxiety threatening to choke her again. His eyes were slow in opening. When green finally met green, one pair was blurry, confused. John frowned up at her, the action making the cuts on his face look worse.

"Mom?" The word came slow, drawn out by the effort of forming it. John made a move to lift his right arm, touch the place on his skin where her fingers had been. It hurt too much. _Everything _hurt and he didn't know why. Panic made him gulp in air, and that hurt too. He hated the choked noise of pain that fell from his lips but there was nothing he could do to hold it back.

"John. You're okay, just be still." Sarah encased his hand in one of hers, resuming the stroking of his forehead with the other. She was trying to soothe away the pain lines there, without much success.

"What happened?" John asked, fingers tightening convulsively around those of his mother. "Mom?"

Panic laced his voice and Sarah lowered hers in response, hoping to calm him. A selfish part of her almost wanted the concussion to be more serious. Just bad enough to make him forget the events leading up to it, just enough that they could return to their normal level of dysfunction. For a moment, that almost seemed possible.

She was talking quietly, John knew that. His mom's voice still seemed loud in his ears. He couldn't quite focus on her. When he tried, the thudding in his head turned into a roar. He felt dizzy even though he was lying down. He'd crashed his bike but he was okay, everyone was here with him. As she said that, John finally noted the others in the room, the concern on their faces. Some part of his brain made the connection to the Bishop house. His mother catalogued his injuries and somehow hearing them listed like that made him hurt more. Worse, he was missing time. So much that he couldn't even establish what his last clear memory was. His breathing sped up and the throbbing in his ribs increased.

"Hey," Peter said, stepping forward a bit as he noticed John's distress. "Easy, John. Easy. We might have to throw some training wheels on that bike, but you're okay. And the sweats you're wearing are mine, not Walter's, so try to relax."

Jeans. He'd worn jeans this morning. They were dirty; he'd grabbed them from a pile of laundry that should've been done days ago. Why had he done that? He had vague recollections of urgency, the need to run. But from what, what had the threat been? Then something occurred to him and his eyes went wide. He sat up too fast and it hurt and his mom's hands were on him, trying to ease him down. "Where's Savannah? Where is she? Is she okay?"

Olivia steeped closer this time, answering before Sarah could. Even as she cringed in sympathy for John, some part of her warmed at his concern for Savannah. Whatever strains background and purpose and parentage had put on their relationship, they loved each other. That was irrefutable, unchanging. "She's okay, John. She's still with my sister. She's fine."

John nodded even though it made his head hurt, some of the tension leeching out of his frame. He didn't know why but he'd suddenly flashed on Savannah as a child, trembling in his arms as they fled from the Weaver house. He'd run from something, run hard and fast. Savannah's absence had set him to thinking that whatever had been chasing him might've caught up with her.

"Oh and don't worry, John, I'm here as well."

Peter shook his head as his father came down the stairs, rejoining the group huddled around John. "Thank you, Walter; I'm sure that makes him feel much better."

It did actually, in a way John couldn't explain. He couldn't explain _any _of it, nothing made sense. And somehow that hurt more than the physical stuff. "Mom?" He kept saying her name, couldn't help it. He was waiting for her to make sense of it for him and she wasn't. She was still trying to lay him back against the cushions and he fought her, clinging on and pulling her close, burying his face against her shoulder. His brain hit on an image of Uncle Bob, how his mother had destroyed the machine in that factory, how he'd felt wrecked in every way possible. He'd felt like that after they burned Cameron too, but there'd been no comforting embraces then. They'd simply walked away from each other, avoiding contact until the next morning. John's head ached with the pain and frustration of some memory trying to claw its way to the surface, but he couldn't hold on to it, couldn't pull it up. For lack of a better option, he tightened his grip on his mother.

Sarah held him carefully, doing her best to avoid bringing him more pain. She'd done enough of that for one day, though John didn't seem to remember. Sarah wished Olivia was in front of her instead of behind, wished she could meet her lover's gaze over her son's shoulder. She wanted to ask for something but she wasn't sure what, other than forgiveness. She'd caused Olivia pain too and the blonde had been pretending not to feel it ever since John fled. And that only made Sarah feel worse.

John frowned into the brown leather of his mother's jacket. There was a hesitance in her hold, a stiffness John didn't understand. He wanted to attribute it to her awareness of his physical state, but somehow that didn't click in his head. He thought of the factory again, how she'd stood there and let him cry despite worries about the police. Then his mind was on Zeiracorp, the moments immediately after the time bubble disappeared, taking any chances he had of rescuing Cameron with it. He'd told his mom that he couldn't go and she'd nodded, said she knew. But he remembered something else, something that had previously been lost in the maelstrom of emotion surrounding that day. She'd nodded understanding and there'd been relief on her face but there was also…disappointment? How was that possible? She'd hugged him then, not caring that Ellison was there, or about the alarms that were blaring everywhere, the shriek of sirens. Her hold then had been the same. So unsure, so unlike her.

And then John knew why.

It hit him all at once, a flood so painful and intense it made him sick. He was careening through the air, off the bike and into a wall of agony. He _had _been wearing jeans from that dirty pile of laundry. The one his mother must've tried to take.

The way she'd taken any chance he'd had with Cameron.

That wasn't right. He knew it wasn't right but didn't care. What she'd done, that wasn't right either. The picture. He'd run because of the picture. Then he'd remembered how much he hated that, hated himself for doing it as long as he had. He'd come back to try and be a man, some semblance of the man his mother had trained him to be.

"_I ran because I was _fucking_ a goddamn machine. _John's_ machine."_

She'd said more than that but those were the words that mattered, the ones that beat endlessly against the confines of his mind, making John feel as though his skull would split. He was spinning again, falling through icy air that burned at his lungs. He pushed out of his mother's hold, cursing the pain and his weakened state.

And her.

"Get out." It was barely a whisper, but he knew she'd heard.

Sarah let him go, knowing he'd be shoving her away with much more force were he capable of it. It was too much to hope for, that he'd magically forget. Things like that happened only in soap operas, though parts of this situation didread like one of the stupid daytime shows she used to race home for as a teenager. "John…" John what? There were no words, especially not with this many ears around to hear them.

"Get out," he repeated, louder this time. He wasn't looking at her. One of his hands squeezed tight against the knee that didn't feel like it had been crushed. "I don't want you here."

Peter and Walter tried to calm him. They probably thought he was confused or delirious. He wasn't confused. For the first time in years, things made a sick, twisted sense. Olivia said his name and he almost screamed at her. John wondered how she dealt with it, knowing that the lover before her had been made of hard metal. Everyone else was talking to him but his mother had stopped. All that time telling him how dangerous the machines were, how stupid it was to treat them as humans. All while she'd been performing the most basic, human act with one of them. With _Cameron_.

She wasn't talking but she wasn't leaving either, and this time he couldn't be the one to do it. So he did the only thing he could, took the only avenue left to him.

"Get the hell away from me," he snarled, green eyes icy as they met those of his mother.

* * *

They drove home in silence, Sarah refusing to meet Olivia's gaze. The Bishops were confused as hell but assured the women that John would be fine recuperating at their home until he became more clear-headed. Olivia was actually worried about that, about what would happen if John went days without contacting Sarah, passing the time by entertaining the worst possible thoughts of his mother.

She maneuvered the vehicle with exceptional caution on the return trip. Whether this was a reaction to John's crash or a way of atoning for the countless traffic laws she'd breached on the way to Peter's, Olivia didn't know. Regardless, getting home took longer than usual but when they pulled into the driveway Sarah remained unmoving. Olivia watched her for long moments, observed Sarah's blank stare. The brunette's hand was clenched tight against the center console and Olivia thought about covering it with her own before rejecting the idea. Instead she waited, kept watching. It didn't take long, what she sensed would happen next. Sarah bit at her lower lip, a gesture that stirred something primal within the blonde in spite of their situation. Then the trembling started. Just a few twitches at first that soon became full-on spasms which wracked Sarah's whole frame. Her breathing grew harsher as she choked on pain and tears, and Olivia couldn't help thinking of the Cortexiphan treatments. This was how it was with those too, a slow, gradual loss of Sarah's fight for control. She'd gladly face a thousand more of Walter's most painful dosing sessions if they would take the place of what she was feeling now, Olivia knew that without asking.

"I could've lost him."

The brunette's voice was a raw, ragged gasp, barely audible despite their close proximity. "You didn't," Olivia asserted with quiet firmness. "You haven't lost him." This time she gave in to instinct, covering Sarah's fingers on the console. They were cool and unmoving.

Sarah met her lover's gaze for the first time since leaving the Bishops. "You don't know that. This is different." She wasn't talking or thinking of John's physical state, at least not solely. She was remembering Cameron lifting her as if she weighed nothing, stitching up her shoulder so John would be spared from seeing the full effects of the bullet. She'd known even then that she would lose him, maybe even realized it would be to the machine she was pouring her heart out to. She'd tried so hard to spare him from knowing of her actions with Cameron, had fully intended on taking the secret to her grave if it came to that. Now it didn't seem to matter much if death separated them. She'd already lost him. Not to Cameron, but to her own weakness.

Sarah let go of a sob and Olivia's throat tightened, along with her grip on the brunette's hand. Wordlessly, Olivia squeezed Sarah's fingers in a well-known signal. Sarah fought for a few seconds before letting Olivia pull her as close as she could with the console between them. The position was awkward, the angle wrong. Sarah sobbed into the black leather of Olivia's jacket, her grip almost painful as her fingers tightened and released. Olivia stroked the other woman's hair, used the pads of her thumbs to take away tears that seemed to fall forever. "He loves you. John _loves _you. So much. That doesn't go away, it doesn't change. Not ever. This will pass. It will. It's not always going to be like this. It'll pass."

Olivia only became aware that she was employing the same language she used to get Sarah through the Cortexiphan treatments after the immediate storm started to abate. The tears slowed and the shakes began to ease. Still Olivia felt that Sarah pulled away too fast, didn't give herself enough time to come back together. She didn't argue though when Sarah eased away from her. The twist of the brunette's lips was barely there but still managed to convey sadness, apology, gratitude and bone-deep weariness. Olivia looked away as Sarah brushed the hair out of her eyes and wiped at her face.

They entered a house that seemed unnaturally quiet with both John and Savannah away. Though she knew it was for the best that the redhead was gone, some part of Olivia still wished for her presence. The girl could sometimes calm Sarah in way that she, Olivia, simply wasn't capable of. It was late and she resisted the urge to make that check-in call Sarah had requested before everything spun into a new level of awfulness. Instead she followed Sarah's lead, carelessly dumping her coat on the sofa. Dimly she noted that if the redhead were here she'd be pissed as hell since the women scolded her for doing that very thing at least once a week. From the corner of her eye Olivia caught another slight tremble in Sarah's frame moments after the woman discarded her jacket. "Cold?"

Sarah shrugged, despite the sharp edge of worry in her lover's tone. "More like numb."

Olivia wasn't sure if the honesty in that response pleased her or increased her concern. "There's some hot cocoa left over from when Savannah asked for it at New Year's."

Sarah actually smiled at that. It was wry and weak but it was there. "Thanks. Think I need something a little more grown-up tonight."

The smile Olivia gave in return was wider, more genuine. The question had been a test. Sarah's insistence on something stronger than hot chocolate kept the blonde from going into complete panic mode. She frowned at the mess of guns that still took up most of their kitchen table but said nothing. Whatever comfort Sarah found in taking apart the firearms, she'd need it more than ever after tonight.

Sarah cleared space at the table for the bottle of whiskey and the glasses Olivia set down beside it. The brunette took a seat as she slammed her drink and went for a refill while Olivia remained on her feet, sipping hers at an only slightly slower pace. The night had been hellish on both of them, but Olivia was grappling with things that Sarah wasn't. Things Sarah herself had hurled into her lover's path.

"Dammit," Olivia swore, setting down her glass. "Forgot to reset the alarm when we came in."

Olivia was in the process of remedying that problem, but she had to pass by Sarah to get to the living room. Sarah made a quick decision, resolving that the alarm could wait given the small armory they were surrounded by. "Hey," Sarah whispered, grasping Olivia's upper thigh as the blonde made to move past her. When Olivia started to turn and face her, Sarah slid up from the chair in a quick, fluid motion Cupping Olivia's cheek with her free hand, Sarah kissed her hard. Thoroughly. Swallowing Olivia's gasp, Sarah let up just enough to give the other woman some oxygen. Then she kissed her again. It was softer this time but just as passionate.

Olivia gasped as Sarah's tongue stroked hers, did it again when the hand on her leg went higher, squeezing at her hip, skimming along her ribcage, finding an unusually ticklish spot near her left shoulder. Sarah tasted like want and whiskey, like she had that first night. Sarah was kissing her like she had then, like it was the first and last time such a thing would happen. They both tasted of liquor and sadness and they were coming together after a near-miss, surrounded by guns. Like old times but so completely different.

When she finally pulled back Sarah let one hand drift to the base of Olivia's neck. She was wearing Sarah's Christmas present, the necklace with the shimmering green stone. While the fingers at the back of Olivia's neck brushed against the chain, Sarah used her free hand to brush a thumb against the rare piece of green that matched her lover's eyes. "I didn't mean what I said earlier," Sarah stated, making certain that she had direct contact with those green orbs.

"I know that," Olivia whispered. She'd known hours ago, as soon as the words were out. The kiss had confirmed it. It was the same now as then, filled with all the same feelings even if they hadn't been near as strong that first night.

"No, you don't know. Not everything. Because _I _don't know everything. Maybe you're right, maybe Cameron meant more to me, did more for me than I want to admit. I don't know because you are right about one thing. My feelings for her, what they were, how deep they were, that was never clear, especially not after she left."

Olivia nodded stiffly, swallowing the lump in her throat and attempting to lower her eyes so Sarah wouldn't see the hurt there, the resignation. But Sarah wouldn't allow it. Abandoning the stone around Olivia's neck, the brunette cupped her lover's cheek, easing up gently until the blonde's gaze was once again level with hers.

"But that doesn't matter. Because my feelings for you, those have always been clear. I love you. _You_, not Cameron. Because whatever else we had or could've had, it wasn't this, it couldn't have been."

"Because Cameron was a machine."

"No," Sarah refuted. That had always bothered her, the fact that Cameron's origins _hadn't _bothered her enough, hadn't stopped what happened between them. The core of the issue wasn't made of metal, though Sarah knew damn well that it should be. "Because she wasn't you. She could never do what you have. With me. _For_ me. It's just you, Olivia. That doesn't change. Nothing and no one changes that. Not ever."

Olivia tried to speak, couldn't for a long time. Briefly she thought of Jacksonville, of Peter telling her that no one else could do what she could right before he tried to kiss her. But the context was different, the connection was different. She'd loved him once, probably could've kept loving him if she hadn't become a pawn in Walternate's war. But he wasn't Sarah.

"Tell me you know," Sarah pressed. "I need to know that you know that." She didn't mention the transplant, but that hardy meant it wasn't on her mind. Assuming John was still willing to do his part, the procedure was tentatively set for sometime in the next couple of weeks. Sarah could handle the threat of death, very possible when her body's defenses were about to be totally trashed. Death was familiar but the worry that she could leave with Olivia questioning the depth of her feelings, that was unacceptable.

Olivia thought she knew what Sarah was thinking, wished she could prevent those thoughts from infecting her own mind, twisting her stomach in knots. Fighting to keep the whiskey down, Olivia pulled Sarah tight against her, holding on as if that alone would be enough. "I know. And I also know that you're going to be fine. You, John, all of us. It's all going to be fine."

Olivia wasn't usually one for blatant denial of the bad possibilities but if their positions were reversed Sarah couldn't say that she'd react any differently. Besides, the blonde's closeness made her feel somewhat better even if the words were tinged with desperation. So Sarah grazed her lips over Olivia's neck while trying not to think about the number of times she'd held John like this, with this same primal desperation. Holding him close hadn't kept John from slipping away from her though, and all the wishful thinking in the world couldn't stop Sarah knowing that it probably wouldn't help her either.

* * *

John gripped the sink with one hand. His left knee was screaming, shaking under his weight but he made no attempt to fix that. His hair was wet from the shower he'd spent too long taking and the soft material of his borrowed Harvard t-shirt seemed to burn and scratch against his injured back and chest. The room felt hot and hazy with steam and John used his free hand to wipe condensation from the mirror. The cuts and scratches to his face were healing but still visible. They seemed to stand out too much and John wondered if the concussion wasn't worse than Walter had thought. He stared at his reflection, running a slow hand through his hair. He remembered the church, how much of his hair had ended up in the sink after Cameron tried to kill him. She tried to kill him and his mother demanded her destruction and instead of listening, he'd held a gun on his mom. He kept them from destroying Cameron and then Cameron said that he couldn't be trusted. But at some point after that she'd trusted _Sarah_ enough to…

It was too screwed up for comprehension, even by Connor family standards. Running his tongue over his teeth, John stopped at one near the back, on the right side of his mouth. The asshole at the bar had loosened it for him during their fight and coming face-first with the pavement at roughly twice the speed limit hadn't helped things. It hurt every time he got near it but John jiggled it with his tongue anyway. Then he tightened his grip on the sink and brought his free hand to his mouth. He grimaced and sucked in air as he pulled. The pain was a bitch but he ignored it, wincing as the molar came away from his gums. He flushed the tooth down the toilet and spit out the blood he hadn't swallowed.

After rinsing his mouth John exited the Bishops downstairs bathroom, making annoyingly slow progress to the couch that had become his bed. For now it had been returned to its regular position. He'd just levered himself down to the sofa when a buzzing noise hit his ears. Scowling at the empty living room, John grabbed his cell from the arm of the couch, shaking his head at the number. God, she'd called him more than his mother had. Hoping that answering one of them might do something to reduce the phone stalking, John took the call. He never got a chance to offer a greeting.

"What the hell did you do?"

John fought a losing battle with an uncharacteristically strong anger towards Savannah. The kid was _so _like his mother, sometimes in the worst possible ways. "Had an accident with the bike. And hi to you too."

Sarcasm was answered with sarcasm. "I heard that part. Thought you might be dead though. Lose your phone?"

"I was in the shower."

"For a week?"

"It was a long shower."

Savannah scoffed in annoyance before responding. "Why are you there and not here? Why's Sarah such a wreck?"

John glared at a television that wasn't on, knuckles turning white as he held the phone to his ear. "Why don't you ask _her_?"

"I did, didn't work. Now I'm asking you."

"Asking or accusing?" John retorted. "Why do you assume that this is my fault?" Savannah had been so devoted to his mother for so long. He hated her for that just now, knowing the feeling to be unfair and irrational.

Savannah paused, took a breath that was audible over the line. When her voice came back it was clear that she was making more of an effort. "So tell me then. What's going on?"

John felt like telling her, just to spite his mother, felt like telling her and the Bishops everything, just to make his mom feel part of what he did. He suppressed the urge without knowing why, as he had for days. "Ask mom," he said instead, hanging up before Savannah could respond.

He was being an ass and he knew it. Wasn't Savannah's fault that the period of relative calm they'd been in ever since the Cortexiphan treatments began had been utterly shattered in the two days she was gone. John felt sympathy that led to guilt but none of it was enough to make him call Savannah back. She'd seen her world shift in a bad way in the span of a few days. And in the space of a few seconds, the time it took his mother to speak a handful of words that didn't make sense, John's world fell apart. For nearly a decade so much of his life had revolved around his feelings for Cameron and his relationship with his mother. The good, bad and incomprehensible parts of both, John hadn't realized how much those things still controlled his thoughts, not until _all _of it fell into the incomprehensible category. Every interaction between the three of them, they all took on new meanings. How much of it had been an act, all those glares and digs his mom threw at Cameron? How much was a ruse to keep him unsuspecting, pathetically unaware of what was happening under his nose?

In a week filled with very little to do besides hurt and think, John still hadn't been able to answer that question. He knew in the part of his brain that wasn't totally consumed with pain and anger that there was only one way of getting the truth, one source of information. He wasn't ready to go down that road, didn't know that he ever would be.

John's unpleasant musings were interrupted by the return of Walter and Peter, both laden down with groceries as they entered the house. John greeted his hosts, forced a smile as Peter held up a bag of the crunchy cheese things he requested. Not that he'd be eating them anytime soon after the impromptu dental surgery he'd just performed. He thought the pain might distract him from everything else but it hadn't. He still felt all the other things and now his mouth was screaming at him. Walter swallowed down what appeared to be a mixture of pills and jelly beans before performing his third check today of John's condition.

"You really must be more careful," Walter admonished as he checked John's pupil dilation. "Have you any idea about the statistical data on motorcycle-related casualties?"

John did, actually. Walter had read him the figures. Twice. He didn't mention that, merely tracked the older man's finger with his eyes, like he'd been told.

"You could have been killed. What if your phone had been damaged in the crash, what if you'd been unable to seek help?"

John had heard all of this enough times that his patience was starting to wear thin, even knowing that all of Walter's points were completely valid. For once. "I was trying to avoid the deer," he said lamely.

"Ah yes, so it was the deer's fault."

"I didn't say that."

"What if you weren't able to make contact with Peter? How would you have felt when that sweet, innocent deer and his friends began feasting on your carcass while you lay rotting in the road?"

"Deer are plant eaters, Walter," Peter said from the kitchen as he put away the last of the groceries. "They usually don't feast on carcasses. And you might want to tone it down some."

"And with all we've been through, son, do you really think that an herbivore developing carnivorous traits is that far-fetched?"

"Fair enough. But until Bambi the flesh eating mutant arrives, could you please _attempt _to tone it down?"

Walter glared at Peter for another second before turning his gaze back to John. His expression changed then, anger melting in the face of the misery etched across John's features. "It will be all right, John. Peter ran away from home too, you know, even took his bike along with him."

"Walter, he's twenty-three years old, he didn't 'run away from home.' I was six and I rode off on the bicycle you had mom give me the previous year, after you missed my birthday. The situations aren't entirely similar."

"Not entirely, but there are parallels. Remember how I found you after you'd fallen off the bicycle and skinned your knee?"

"It was a sprained ankle, Walter, and I fell because Mrs. Claxton's dog decided to run out in front of me."

"I see. So it was the dog's fault?" When all he got from Peter was an exceptionally sour look, Walter again addressed John. "But you see, Peter and I worked things out. Whatever's troubling you and your mother, you'll work it out too. It won't be long before you're as close as Peter and I are."

"Walter, please. Don't make things worse by giving him nightmares."

Shortly after that Walter disappeared upstairs. He'd chosen to have his midday snack while using the TV in his room to indulge in an _Outer Limits _marathon_. _John declined Peter's offer of food and tried to do so again when the older man sat down next to him and held out a glass of water and two tablets.

"God," Peter complained when John shook his head in the negative. "One guy can't get enough drugs, the other freaks out over some Tylenol. Take them. Your pain face is ugly and I'm sick of looking at it."

"And your bedside manner needs work," John retorted, even as he swallowed down the pills and set the glass on the coffee table.

"I learned from Walter. Factor that in and you'll realize my bedside manner is actually incredible." Peter's tone remained light enough, but his eyes sharpened when he spoke next. "You going to tell me what this is, John?"

He'd expected it days ago but the question still made him tense, especially after the call from Savannah. "If I wanted you to know, don't you think you'd know?"

Peter couldn't help a small smirk. Sarah had said much the same thing when he finally asked, the last time he'd called to update her on John's condition. Sarah's tone had been different though. Less forced casualness, more force period. Peter doubted that voicing this comparison would help. "Well, based on where we found you it seems like you were on your way here already. So I guess some part of you wanted me to know something."

John sighed and ducked his head. He didn't think it'd been a conscious choice but he couldn't deny making it. Drunk, hurt and on the run, his instincts had led him to Peter. Peter who knew about running, who knew more than his fair share about the wounds parents could inflict. He'd meant to come here to begin with but John still couldn't make the words flow from his mouth.

"All right, I'll talk then. You really _could _have gotten yourself killed."

Peter's admonition was far less heated than that of his father, but the sentiment remained the same. "You really think I don't know that?"

"No, but I don't think you care as much as you should."

"The war's over, Peter. If I want to go out and do stupid, dangerous things that don't involve guns I can do that now without putting the whole world at risk."

Peter's eyes narrowed. For the first time, the hint of an edge crept into his voice. "First off, I choose to believe that you're right, that the fighting's done. It's the only way I can sleep at night or hold my son during the day, to believe that he's not inheriting a world that's eventually going to tear itself to pieces. But me wanting to believe that doesn't necessarily make it so, and we both know that. But that aside, you don't have the right to be that sloppy with your life, even if we never see another machine. All the times we had to fight tooth and nail to stay alive, none of us have the right to be that sloppy. You think because you don't have to lead an army anymore that your death wouldn't decimate us? You're not that stupid, John, so don't pretend you are."

John stared at his lap until Peter's next words forced his head back up.

"Look, if you don't want to tell me what's happening between you and Sarah, that's fine. But whatever it is, is it so bad that you want her to die over it?"

"No!" The idea turned John's stomach. His teeth clenched of their own accord, resulting in a harsh jolt of pain from the place where his back molar used to be. "What the hell, Peter?"

"Don't act so shocked. I know you got knocked on the head but don't pretend you haven't thought of it. If we'd lost you last week, we would've lost Sarah too. No transplant without a donor. Not that I think the cancer would've mattered to her at that point. Savannah and Olivia still would've cared though, if she died."

John was ashamed to say that he _hadn't _thought of it, hadn't thought about anything except the pain his mother had caused him. Now he considered Savannah, and the girl's devotion to his mother meant something different than it had when she'd jumped down his throat earlier.

Sensing that he'd shocked his way past the initial layers of John's resistance, Peter softened his voice again, changing strategies. "Listen, I don't doubt that it was bad, whatever caused all this. But is it bad enough to trump all the things Sarah's done for you before? Because that's a lot. Just based on the few years that I've known you, that's a lot."

The implication that he somehow didn't know that caused John's hackles to rise again. "I really don't need another guilt trip right now."

"An observation isn't a guilt trip," Peter replied evenly.

John sighed, running a rough hand through his hair. "I think I just said that nothing's bad enough to replace all that." He'd never wish his mother gone and no matter where they stood in the next few weeks, the transplant _would _happen. Still, 'It's bad though."

Peter nodded, studied John for long moments. Then he dug around in his pocket, coming back with one of the coins Walter had presented him with at Christmas. "Helps me think," he explained, walking it slowly between his fingers. "Guess it's my version of Walter blasting Mozart at three in the morning while trying to create a better form of LSD." The remark earned the hint of a smile that Peter had been hoping for and he returned it, manipulating the coin for several more seconds before letting it fall and closing his fingers around it. "You know that I get it. I don't know specifically what's happening here, but I get being angry at a parent."

John nodded. He did know, knew things Savannah didn't, about the alternate universe and Peter's place in it.

Peter offered his own nod, apparently guessing where John's mind was. "But even before I knew about Reiden Lake, about Walternate, I was still angry. I downright hated Walter for a long time. Seventeen years in the institution and I never visited him once. You've hacked the records, you know that."

John was back to not looking at Peter. He'd hated his mother, too, during her time at Pescadero. He couldn't have visited her, wouldn'thave even if the authorities had been stupid enough to put her within grabbing distance of him. He'd hated her for lying, then hated himself when he learned that she wasn't crazy. Now things were reversed. On some level he'd hated himself for years. For not going after Cameron, for wishing he had. And now he'd discovered this, that his mother really had lied this time. The bad feelings that flooded him as a kid were multiplied ten-fold.

"Then when I found out who I was," Peter continued, unaware of John's inner turmoil. "Well, you've heard the stories."

"You ran," said John, locking eyes with Peter again.

"I did," the younger Bishop confirmed. "So again, I can't and don't judge. I was gone for weeks and even after I came back, after Walter crossed back to save me again, it took a long time to get things close to okay between us. There were still days when we barely spoke, when I'd think about what he did and I couldn't stand to be around him."

"So you're not telling me to drop it."

Peter shook his head but there was a slowness to it, a caution. "I'm assuming it's not something that can be dropped."

"It's not. Thank you."

"Don't thank me until I've finished talking," Peter warned ruefully. "The thing is, I regret not seeing him, leaving him alone in that hospital. I'm not saying it wouldn't have been strained or that I'd have visited him every week, but seventeen years is a long time. And time travel aside, I'm never going to get that back. And one day Walter's going to be gone again, really gone, and I'm going to have to live with my choices."

Peter paused there, opening his fingers. The coin was nowhere in sight. John remembered the older man's little tricks as being far more entertaining than they were at the moment. "So. You _are _telling me to drop it."

"No," Peter insisted. "I just told you how bad it was when I found out Walter had stolen me, how much time I took to truly be all right with him again. I needed that time, and I think that as much as he hated it, maybe Walter did too. The problem here is that you don't have the same luxuries we did. I don't know how honest Sarah and Olivia have been with you but this transplant isn't a sure thing. At all. The odds of it succeeding aren't horrible and if there's anyone I'd bet on it would be your mom. But the odds aren't great, either and I didn't always win my bets. Sometimes the house cheats; sometimes you lose when you're not supposed to. You're lucky to be alive right now. Things might not turn out so well in a few weeks."

John shook his head, offered a denial that sounded weak to his own ears. "She's too tough. You don't survive beatings and guns and machines just to go out like that."

Peter's eyes were compassionate but sad. "The thing is, John, sometimes you do. And you know that, just like you know most of what I'm telling you. Toughness, strength, it's not there every minute of every day. My mother, I loved her but I resented her too. I resented her for being with Walter, letting him treat us the way he did sometimes. She wasn't strong in the way Sarah is but she kept us going after Walter was locked up, took care of us the best she could." It was Peter's turn to look away. He kept his head down for long moments before continuing. "Then I left and she killed herself. I don't know if she thought I didn't need her anymore and that that made it easier to quit fighting but…she carried a lot. Because of Walter, because of me and where I came from. She carried it for a long time and eventually…" Peter sighed, briefly looking away from John again. "Sometimes people break. And sometimes they don't, but they still get taken from us. If I hadn't been sick as a kid, a lot of things would've been different for a lot of people, not just the ones I cared about."

"That's not your fault, Peter."

"No. And it's not anyone's fault that your mom is sick, that you don't have the time I did to heal from whatever's happening between you. But that's how it is. Life throws us things that we shouldn't have to handle but we do because there's not another choice. And when we're trying to handle everything, we screw up, all of us. And sometimes we screw up so badly that we have no idea how to fix it. And then we try anyway and most of the time all we do is screw it up more. And we do this most with our families because that's the safest place to practice even though it's probably the place that hurts the most. But we get through it the same way we get through shapeshifters and machines and nukes. We get through it because it's family, and most of the time we don't have another choice."

"I know," John admitted quietly after a protracted silence. "I love her, I don't want… I don't know what to do with this."

"Shelve it. Not necessarily forget it, not forgive it because you feel you have to. I doubt that would work anyway. But I do think you need to shelve it, as much as that's possible. Sarah's incredibly strong, like you said. She's got the best people on her side, and she's too stubborn to go out without a fight. More than likely, she'll be fine. And if the anger and the hurt are still this bad after that happens, you shouldn't have a problem picking it up again."

* * *

It was late when he returned to the brownstone, past midnight. He stepped into the house on a knee that throbbed in protest. Peter had offered to help, tell Olivia he'd be coming back. John had refused both suggestions. The drive passed mostly in silence, interspersed with sporadic apologies from John for requesting a chauffeur at this hour. Peter waved him off with barely a word, giving John more time for the thoughts he'd been wrestling with ever since their conversation.

Shutting the door behind him, John eyed in the alarm code. The tiny beeps as the numbers were entered seemed deafening in the still darkness. John half expected Olivia or his mother to come bursting in waving a gun in his face. His mom's sleep patterns were erratic and he assumed some of that had been transferred to Olivia. The thought of being held at gunpoint again worried him far less than the idea of facing his mother in the morning. As it turned out he didn't have to live with that fear for long.

The knee wouldn't bend properly, made his steps louder than they'd otherwise be. He only made it a few paces further into the living room when he realized he wasn't alone. He hadn't seen his mother sitting on the couch but he heard her movement just before a lamp next to an end table near the sofa was turned on. The light was soft but John still blinked and grimaced. His head hurt, a condition that only worsened when he got a decent look at his mom. She was pale and worn, with circles under her eyes. None of it surprised him but it still hurt. "Sorry. I didn't…sorry I woke you."

"I wasn't sleeping." Her voice was tight and raw as she looked at him.

"I haven't been doing much of that either," he admitted softly.

Her hair was a mess, even accounting for the hour. Sarah ran impatient fingers through it as she stood up. She took a few quick steps in his direction, then seemed to think better of it. She stopped moving, tension clear in her frame. "You need rest," she said, matching his soft tone for reasons that had very little to do with the others in the house. "You were hurt."

"I'm okay, Mom."

"No," she refuted, shaking her head sadly and looking away as she did it. "You're not. I'm sorry."

He didn't speak, didn't move. He kept waiting for her to do it, then realized it wouldn't happen. He flashed on Zeiracorp and his throat went tight. She hadn't moved then either, leaving the decision in his hands. They shook now. He clenched his jaw again, ignoring the pain in his mouth. He took a single step toward her, as he had when he'd exited the time bubble, making a choice they both had to live with. He managed a few more and then his knee locked up. Everything did really. His chest hurt and the shaking in his hands worsened as it all crashed in on him. The leg buckled and he started to fall forward mid-step.

His mother was there almost before he knew what was happening. She held him up, arms wrapping tight around him. He clutched at her because there was nothing else to do. She was taking too much of his weight but when he tried to fix that it only made things worse. Peter's words repeated in his mind as he leaned into her, all his senses assaulted with her familiarity. Her scent, the feel of her arms around him. He couldn't tell if these things made him feel better or worse.

"John."

The name was breathed into his ear. She sounded closer to tears than he could ever remember and John jammed his own eyes closed. He waited for her to say more but heard only the sound of ragged breathing. This was different than before. She wasn't choosing to wait on his next move, she just couldn't make one of her own. She still held him, stopping his already-sore body from landing in a heap on the floor. More of the conversation with Peter flooded John's ears. His mom had carried so much, carried _him _for so long. He knew intellectually that it was inevitable, her giving in to all of it. On some level he'd known that even before talking to Peter. She'd tried to explain some of it, he could remember now that he wasn't wasted or unconscious. It started after Sarkissian, he knew that much. He wasn't sure which was worse, which was really causing most of the pain. That he hadn't known a thing of what she was doing with Cameron, or that he hadn't known how badly she was hurting, that she'd been struggling just as hard as he had.

"Did she help you, Mom?" The words came hard. His teeth still wanted to clench and he swore he tasted bile in his mouth.

"What?"

She tried to pull back and he held her tighter, not for the usual reasons. He didn't know that he could do this if she looked at him. "Did Cameron help you? Did you need…did she help you?" It took her a long time to answer. John thought her breathing might've stopped for a moment. When the words finally came she sounded as rough and strained as he did. Oddly that made him feel better.

"Yes. She helped."

John nodded against her shoulder, lips just barely brushing her cheek. "Okay. Okay," he repeated, as if saying it enough times would make it true.

"John-"

"Mom." He cut her off, tightening his grip for slightly purer reasons this time. There was a plea in his voice and he hoped she heard it because it was so hard to speak right now. Apparently she did.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, John."

"Mom…" Shelve it. That was all he had to do. Set it down and deal with it later, hopefully at a time when they weren't drowning under the weight of their shared past. "I know that, Mom. Me too."


	14. Chapter 14

Sarah spent her last few days at home feeling like one of the machines. Whenever John or Savannah saw her, they looked for any excuse to run in the other direction. Some of John's reaction could be put down to the revelations about Cameron, but there was more to it than that. Two days after John came home, Sarah and Olivia met the Bishops in the Harvard lab. A day after that they crossed universes again, talked with Felicia Burnett. Tests were done, questions asked and by the end of that meeting, the date was set for Sarah's transplant. John made his first pilgrimage to the Other Side a short time later, allowing Felicia to take the marrow that would hopefully save his mother's life. Sarah tried talking to him after. Whether she meant to offer thanks, an apology or another useless explanation of her behavior with Cameron, Sarah didn't know. John waved her off and retreated before she could find out.

Sarah knew what was happening and why. That knowledge didn't help with the frustration. She'd let things go as long as she could, longer than she should have. But now it was the eve of the transplant and certain tasks needed completion even if Sarah dreaded the hell out of them.

She was in the living room alone, the space immediately next to her on the couch taken up by a couple of leather-bound photo albums. She'd been occupying herself with one of them until a few minutes ago. Sparing a quick glance at her watch Sarah sat back against the cushions and pretended to relax as Savannah entered through the front door. Ellison was punctual: he'd always had that on his side even when she'd been pissed off and confused about Cameron and contemplating leaving him to fend for himself.

Always on time. If James said he'd have Savannah back by three, she was back by three. If he said he'd have the C-4 planted and the car pulled around before things lit up, he was good for that too. And he cooperated when it mattered. Sarah had let him spend extra time with Savannah even though her own time was getting shorter. Because Savannah was scared and she wouldn't admit that to just anyone. Because _Sarah _was scared and she'd needed time to strategize. James took Savannah when she asked, tried to shield the girl from the fear, the hurt. Sarah had learned to love him in her own way, mostly for that reason. Probably best if she articulated those feelings, but one battle at a time was always better. Whenever possible anyway.

"Hey. Have a good time?"

Savannah shrugged as she eased out of her jacket. That action didn't hide the tension in her frame, the sudden sharpness in her eyes. "Memory lane?" she said, nodding towards the albums and answering one question with another. "Not usually your thing, is it?"

"Not usually, no," Sarah conceded. "Care to join me?"

She was asking, but she wasn't. Sarah hadn't needed to twist Savannah's arm to get her out of the house recently. She'd been forced to ask Rachel to feign a busy schedule so the redhead couldn't spend all her time hiding out with Olivia's relatives. Savannah had worked hard to avoid this conversation, must've sensed the threat of it. Sarah had rewarded her for that, rewarded both of them really. She couldn't anymore.

Savannah must've sensed that part as well because she came without a fight. Positioning herself next to the brunette, Savannah remained unnaturally guarded as her eyes wandered the pages of the album Sarah had reopened. "Those pictures were all digital, you know. You could save yourself some space, transfer them to your phone."

The girl's tone was wry and so was the smirk she got as a reply. It was old and familiar, the teasing about Sarah's continued fear of anything involving computers. One last diversion before the _unfamiliar_, unpleasant stuff.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, let the silence stretch until Savannah moved closer, leaning into her slightly. She could still feel the tension in the redhead's frame, but there was only so much Sarah could reasonably ask for. She let her mind drift, trying to convince herself that another second or two didn't matter. She'd never put the pictures on a phone, though they'd stopped going through them every other month a long time ago. She wasn't the scrapbook type either. That was Olivia's doing, Olivia insisting that it was okay to store some photos, that they wouldn't be packing their bags any time soon, that the albums wouldn't be a hindrance. Savannah was in most of the pictures, John hardly any. It occurred to her then that the surveillance images of John at the bank were the ones clearest in her memory, the ones she'd seen the most. Sarah closed her eyes and focused on the feel of Savannah's weight against her. She thought of Marty Bedell and his criticism of her parenting skills. She hoped she'd improved over the years but wasn't sure. There were two photo albums, but they were thin and one of them remained almost empty. She'd have to talk to Olivia about filling the blank pages, keeping up with the good memories.

"You need to listen to Olivia when I'm gone. Tone down the backtalk. We both know where you get it from so I can't say much, but I'm still telling you to ease up on it. Things are going to be rough for awhile. On Olivia too, even when she pretends they aren't."

Any stiffness that might've left Savannah's frame was back in an instant. Sarah felt how close the girl was to pulling away from her. She didn't though. Pulling away would mean acknowledging that they were talking about more than a potentially long stay in the hospital.

Savannah pulling away would mean Savannah conceding that Sarah might not be coming home.

"I still want to visit you," Savannah pressed, refusing to take Sarah's orders as anything other than temporary.

"I know you do," Sarah replied, slipping an arm around Savannah and squeezing gently to make the point. "You're still not going to." Travel to a universe Savannah didn't know about wasn't the only issue. Not even the main one, amazingly enough.

"I want to see you."

"So see me now," Sarah retorted. She didn't expect Savannah to comment on the days of evasion and the redhead didn't surprise her. "See me now," Sarah repeated in a different tone. "You don't need to see me like that. You're not going to."

"You act like I haven't seen you sick before."

'Sick' in this case meaning beaten, shot, stabbed or some combination of the three. Sarah didn't feel like arguing semantics though. "That's sort of the point, and I think you know that."

"I know John's going to be there."

Sarah closed her eyes again. No matter how much progress she made, they always seemed to come back around to John. "John's an adult, I can't lock him in his room. I don't have that problem with you."

"Nice. Really nice."

The words were said on a sardonic chuckle. Sarah took what laughter she could get and fought the urge to tell the redhead that truth was rarely pleasant. There was no need for such a reminder, not with Savannah. That in itself was another depressing bit of reality.

"Fine, you don't want me there, I get it."

It sounded like she actually did, but Sarah sensed something hidden there. "Savannah…"

"You didn't want me around before either."

Savannah's voice had suddenly gone close to inaudible. It was that more than anything that clued Sarah in to what the trap was even as she pushed for more details. "What?"

"Gymnastics. When you picked me up after Weaver left. You didn't want to, didn't want me around. Not at first."

Savannah never referred to the thing that had played at being her mother. Never. Sarah could count on one hand the number of times the girl had let so much vulnerability show in her voice. She wondered how long Savannah had carried this before realizing the answer. Six, almost seven years. Always.

Sarah wished she could protest. She couldn't. Savannah might've heard her say as much before. The girl had always seemed to be around then. There were lots of nightmares. She'd had more than enough opportunities to catch the wrong snippet of an argument between Sarah and James. "I love you," the brunette declared. Desperation made the words almost sharp. The arm around Savannah tightened convulsively and Sarah had to force herself to check her grip. "You know that."

"I know. You just didn't before. Not at first."

Olivia had said close to the same thing on the morning they argued about Cameron. That moment kept looping itself in Sarah's head, along with that other frame of time when Savannah first learned of the cancer. The worst part of it was that Savannah hadn't even been accusatory when telling her that John mattered more out of the two of them, that John had more of Sarah's affection. It had been a statement, just as this was. There was a haze of self-reproach and pain now, as there was months earlier. Sarah didn't know why she kept being surprised by these feelings Savannah had, didn't know how to get rid of them. She only knew that she had to try while the chance was still there.

She eased away from Savannah, ignoring the silent protest, the tightening of the girl's hold on her. Sarah gave herself only enough space to assure eye contact with Savannah. "Look at me." Savannah didn't want to, that was obvious. She did it anyway and the knot that had been slowly tightening itself in Sarah's stomach over a period of days loosened just a bit. "It was never about not wanting you. I wanted _better _for you."

"I know. You've said this before."

She had. With a wooden door between them, on the same night Savannah first voiced the fears about her place in relation to John's. "I'm saying it again. That life, the one where you saw me and Olivia and everyone else out on a line every day, that's not what I wanted. For me or you. John and I didn't have a choice, but you…"

"Didn't have anyone. Just you guys. And Uncle James."

And Uncle James. Ellison was so much better at this than she was. Maybe he'd be able to convince Savannah of certain things if it came to that, if Sarah wasn't given enough time to do it herself. "It wasn't supposed to be this," she continued, nodding towards the photos of better times. "My life. Ours. It wasn't supposed to be like this, I didn't expect that. When James and I took you," Sarah paused long enough to close the scrapbook in her lap, set it aside. "My life up to that point, all it had been was taking. For a long time, most of what mattered always seemed to get ripped away. I didn't want you involved in that."

"I already was," Savannah pointed out.

"You were. And you…that was one of the few times things went the other way."

"What?"

"It didn't _always _take, the life I had. I have Olivia because of it. And John. And you." Sarah put careful emphasis on the last word, made sure she had the redhead's gaze. "You're what matters. _All _of you. You need to realize that you were the reason I kept going. You need to hear that."

Savannah looked away for half a second, used the curtain of her hair to hide her face. "You don't need to do this."

"Yes, I do."

"I'm asking you not to."

"And I can't always do what you want. Especially this time."

Savannah shook her head, taking a breath that wasn't quite even. "You never did this when I was younger, I don't know why you have to do it now."

Because if she'd said goodbye, said what needed to be said every time there was a possibility of death, most of Savannah's childhood would've been spent having this talk. "This time's different."

"No," Savannah refuted. "It isn't. You fight now just like you did all the other times."

Sarah nodded, stroking the hair out of Savannah's eyes before pulling the redhead into her arms. "I do," Sarah said, an agreement and a promise. "And the risks are more or less the same," she continued, stroking Savannah's back and dropping a kiss to her temple.

"I know," Savannah replied with only a slight crack in her voice. She was the one to pull back this time. "You don't know, do you? All this time and you still don't know."

"Know what?"

"What you did. When you took me. How much you…you gave me a life."

Sarah closed her eyes and pulled Savannah tight again, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "You returned the favor," she said, barely above a whisper.

* * *

After days of thinly-veiled evasion it ended up being John who cornered _her_. They caught each other in the hallway while John was exiting his room and Sarah was moving to enter it. "You talked to Savannah," he said by way of greeting.

Sarah nodded, though no question had been asked. "And I guess she talked to you." Warned, more like.

John didn't confirm or deny. "So I'm next on the list then."

Would've been first if she'd had any say in it. His knee wasn't fully healed yet, but it hadn't kept John any closer to her. He was leaning on the doorframe, trying to pretend he wasn't. His left leg seemed steady enough, but there were pain lines creasing his forehead. "Why don't you take something for the pain?" she asked, eyes cutting briefly to the knee that was starting to bend. He was bruised where Walter had taken the marrow, not that he hadn't been already. Walter just created a slightly newer pain to distract from the wounds caused in the bike accident.

"I don't need the pills. Walter will be happy to get them back."

So damn stubborn. Sarah wished she had someone other than herself to blame. "Fine. Let's sit down then."

John stood his ground, blocking the door to his room. "We can talk here."

He wasn't being confrontational, that was the hell of it. He was fighting her, but he wasn't being obvious about it, wasn't showing anger. Anger would make more sense. They hadn't talked of Cameron since he came home, and the time during which they could keep that up without serious risks was quickly coming to an end. "You need to sit down."

"Then you need to talk fast," John retorted. He took a breath and ducked his head, running his free hand through his hair. When he looked at her again something had softened, but he still didn't move from the door. "I'm not making it easy on you. If you need time or privacy, you're not going to get it."

"What are you doing, John?"

"Making it harder on you. You don't get to say goodbye to me, Mom, not the way you want. So whatever you think you need to say, you'll have to say it here."

She couldn't even make the denial, tell him he was wrong about her motives. Tomorrow she'd get a megadose of chemo, enough to wipe out her immune system. If not for better technologies on the Other Side she'd be getting it already, would've been sick for the last week. As it was, the other universe had ways of giving her the therapy in a way that wouldn't overwhelm her system, which was why she felt well enough to stand here arguing with her son. That wouldn't be the case for long. The transplant procedure itself wasn't much to worry about, basically amounting to a blood transfusion except with marrow. The aftermath was the problem. She'd be susceptible to all kinds of infections while waiting for the new marrow to work its magic and rebuild her system. That was assuming her body didn't reject the stuff immediately, which wasn't really a safe bet. She'd probably be alive after tomorrow, but there was no telling what state she'd be in. Sarah had been close to death enough times to realize that lengthy bedside goodbyes weren't something to count on. If things went wrong she'd likely have too many drugs and too much pain to say anything worth hearing, so she spoke now, hoping that the words would prove unnecessary.

"We've been over this. You need to accept the possibility that this won't work, and if it doesn't-"

"No," John refuted, green eyes flashing as he cut across her statement. "I don't need to accept losing you, not like this. I _don't _accept that."

"John-"

"If I don't accept it, then you can't either. If there are things we need to sit down and talk about, we'll do it after you're well again. Otherwise we talk here."

Sarah couldn't decide who he was right then. The boy who'd raged so hard against his destiny and begged her to get rid of it for him, or the man she'd tried for so long to shape him into, the John Connor meant to raise humanity from the ashes. Sarah wasn't sure which of those incarnations she was talking to. Maybe a combination of both. She wasn't budging either of them, that much she _did _know. "No matter what happens, you need to get yourself out of the system Over There as soon as possible. The tests, the medical data. The other Olivia, she's made arrangements. The Astrid on that side, she's going to be watching your records to make sure no one outside the hospital accesses them but-"

"What about yours?"

"Our records," Sarah corrected as if the distinction didn't matter. "But once this is done you need to purge everything." She waited for John to argue or agree. He did neither and Sarah was forced to take it on faith that he was listening, really hearing her. John didn't speak and Sarah didn't know how to break the silence.

Then her son took it out of her hands. John pushed off against the wall until there was no gap between them, until, she was in his arms. Sarah took in a rough hiss of air that became an almost-silent sob when John whispered two words in her ear.

"Thank you."

Sarah tightened her grip, felt John do the same. There was so much to say and she couldn't talk, could barely manage breathing.

"I'm not saying it because of the transplant. It's overdue, that's all."

He was rocking them in place, doing what she had when he first came to Boston, during that initial hug in his room. It couldn't be good for his knee, but Sarah couldn't tell him that. "I love you, John. I always have." It was the only thing she could say. With Cameron, with years of hurts and mistakes between them, it was the only thing she knew how to articulate. She'd said it at the Dyson house after nearly killing Miles, after John promised her that things would work out. Her son answered the same way he had nearly twenty years earlier.

"I know," he murmured, pulling her impossibly tighter and burying his head against her shoulder.

* * *

Her hands wouldn't stay still. Olivia knelt on the floor of their bedroom packing Sarah's bag for the hospital. The fucking shaking in her hands wouldn't ease. She'd done this for her mother at the age of fourteen. Once Marilyn Dunham entered the hospital, she never came out. Olivia dug her fingers roughly into the flannel of a shirt she'd been trying to fold for several minutes now.

Olivia told herself for the thousandth time that this was different. Sarah would not only come home, she'd be well again. Then the two of them along with John and Savannah, they would _all _work on getting well. Sarah's departure tomorrow morning would ultimately bring salvation. For all of them. Olivia kept up those thoughts, but her fingers kept trembling. Shaking her head in disgust, Olivia set the garment aside. Her fingers remained clenched with anxiety, nails biting into her own skin instead of the soft material that smelled like Sarah. When she heard her lover approaching, Olivia snatched up another piece of clothing and attempted to look busy. "I think I'm close to having everything covered."

"I trust you. But you don't have to do that."

Sarah's voice was somewhere behind her. The brunette didn't attempt to get closer. From the corner of her eye, Olivia saw Sarah go to their dresser, lean up against it. Sarah was facing her back, but wasn't looking at her. Olivia didn't know where the other woman's gaze was, but she would've known if it rested on her. "Yes, I do," she replied. She didn't _want _to, but the task gave Olivia something to focus on, never mind the fact that she was failing miserably at it.

"The safehouse in Mexico, what are the coordinates?"

The question was so abrupt that Olivia almost turned enough to look at Sarah. She caught herself at the very last moment, realizing how quickly such a move would undo her. "What?"

"Mexico, we set it up three years ago, what are the coordinates?"

"I know what you're talking about, and you know that _I _know where it is."

"I do. Tell me anyway."

With a mixture of frustration and bewilderment, Olivia did. When Sarah asked her about a weapons cache just outside of L.A. Olivia started to figure out the game. She gave the location of a thermite stash and the details on two sets of false identities before calling a halt. "Enough. You're coming home, we don't need to play quiz show like this."

"No, we probably don't."

Something in that tone made Olivia's blood boil and freeze simultaneously. She needed to turn around and confront Sarah on it. Instead she threw two more pairs of socks into the bag. This shouldn't be happening. The forty percent success rate was obviously looming larger than ever in both their minds, but that shouldn't matter. As Nina pointed out weeks ago, they'd beaten odds much worse than that, again and again. But those other times were about outfighting or outthinking the enemy. There was more physical danger, but at least they could face it together, cover for each other. Destroying the enemy this time could mean destroying Sarah, and Olivia couldn't protect her from that. Peter, Walter, Felicia, they'd all go above and beyond to make this work, but that thought wasn't as comforting as it should be. Olivia herself would have no say in this, no way of stacking the deck in Sarah's favor.

"I need you to try and watch out for John. I know that's harder than it is with Savannah, but he needs…"

Olivia closed her eyes. They stung like hell. It felt like her throat was closing up. So smart, so calculated, so infuriating. Giving her the easy stuff and then waiting for her irritation to provide an opening for the things that really hurt. "He needs _you_."

"I know. But if that's not possible-"

"Stop." They weren't supposed to be doing this. There'd been missions before, plans rife with the possibility of error and death. And there'd been nights that left plenty of time to dwell on those possibilities, think about how one or both of them could be dead the next morning. This hadn't been part of those nights, this blatant discussion of the risks. They had more to lose this time though. An odd thought considering everything they'd had at stake before, but it was true. They had a life now, one that didn't consist of nights like this. "Please don't do this."

A pause. When Sarah's voice came back it held a clear note of apology. "When Savannah asked me to change time, jump over my death, I asked you if we needed to talk about that. You said that at some point we probably would. Do we need to do that?"

Months ago, that hellish night when Savannah came back from Ellison's and ran off a few hours later. It felt like something from another life. Olivia swallowed hard, sure Sarah must've heard her.

"If you say no, then it's done, we'll drop it."

She had an out, a lifeline. She only needed to reach for it. The words wouldn't come, the promise that if her lover died, Olivia would do nothing to alter the timeline. She of all people knew the selfish, dangerous nature of her thoughts. That didn't stop her from contemplating what would happen if Walter was ever able to recreate the TDE technology or build a version of his own. The scenario wasn't that far-fetched. She'd be risking countless lives past, present and future if she tried to change anything. That knowledge still wasn't enough to make Olivia talk past the lump in her throat. It would've been easier years ago, before she knew what she'd be losing. That she was capable of being happy. Sarah was looking at her now, Olivia could feel green eyes at her back. Normally that would mean warmth, comfort. Tonight the brunette's gaze felt hot, like it was burning through clothing and flesh, searing her to the core. Tears burned Olivia's eyes. She covered her mouth with one hand, but it did no good. "Oh God." The words got lost on a sob, but they were there and Olivia hated herself for them, hated that she was too weak to say what was necessary.

There were footsteps, then Sarah was crouching next to her on the floor. Taking Olivia's chin in one hand, Sarah used the other to get rid of some of the tears. Cupping the blonde's cheek, Sarah held bright green eyes with her own. "Don't do what Cameron did. Don't put me through that. The waiting, knowing that I'm on borrowed time. Don't do that to me. Or yourself."

She'd expected the same arguments they'd given Savannah. It wasn't as if those weren't convincing enough. She hadn't expected Sarah to make it about herself. That was so far away from the norm that for long moments Olivia couldn't form a response. Don't do what Cameron did. Suddenly Olivia hated the machine. Sarah had run through radiation for her: they might not be having this conversation otherwise. At the very least, they may have more time. But no. If not for Cameron, they'd have nothing because Sarah would've died long before Olivia had a chance to know her. It was all so complicated and unfair. It was unfair of Sarah to pick this one time to make it about herself. There wasn't a choice in the face of that. There _shouldn't _have been anyway, it wasn't justifiable by any standard of rationality.

One of the few things Olivia knew for certain, rationality didn't always win out.

"I won't change anything," she said finally, the words coming rough and jagged against her throat. "I promise."

"I trust you."

Olivia tried to nod. Her vision blurred again, and her head ended up buried in the space between Sarah's neck and shoulder. "I don't know how to be without you again."

She hadn't meant to say it. Olivia cursed her own weakness as Sarah rubbed her back, kissed her hair. Tomorrow would be good; she had to stop treating it like another mission, another plausible death sentence. The cancer had snuck up on her, that had to be it. Sarah knew, but Olivia hadn't. To her it was a surprise punch, thrown while her back was turned. Skynet and shapeshifters, she'd learned how to protect herself from those things. This had caught her off-balance. She was teetering on the edge and had no control over which direction she'd fall in.

Sarah didn't offer empty platitudes, merely held her until the tears stopped. It didn't take long, there was that to be thankful for at least. When they separated Sarah took away the moisture again, kissing the places her fingers touched. Then their lips were touching. The contact was soft, gentle, but Olivia's heart still raced. One of Sarah's hands brushed the necklace at her throat, the Christmas gift from weeks ago when everything had seemed so hopeful and this night had felt a million miles away.

"If you were going to have sex with someone, and you knew that it might be the absolute last time, what do you think it would be like?"

God. She couldn't do this. "I think it would be incredibly sad," Olivia replied, adding to all this raw honesty she was starting to loathe.

"So do I." Sarah kissed her again, resting their foreheads together briefly. A soft, sad smile graced her lips. "Make me sad."

* * *

Olivia felt Sarah's eyes before she opened her own. She blinked away sleep and smiled groggily at her lover. Sarah faced her in bed, head propped up on an elbow. She wore her own half-smile as she trailed her free hand along Olivia's arm.

"Hey," Olivia murmured. Sarah kissed her in reply, first her lips, then her jaw, and finally her shoulder. Olivia reveled in the contact for too short a time before remembering what day it was. "What time is it?" she asked, voice tight with urgency.

"Shhh," Sarah whispered, shifting under the sheets and pulling the other woman close. "We've got time."

"How much?"

"Enough."

_Not _enough, in other words. As if there ever would be. Olivia put her head against Sarah's chest, listening to the steady thrum there. She tried to let go for a few more minutes but it wasn't possible. She'd have to finish packing Sarah's suitcase. Their clothes from last night had probably fallen into it. She needed to call James. And Broyles, she had to talk to him about John's visitations to the Other Side. The usual channels of approval weren't an option so she'd have to-

"You're thinking too much," Sarah admonished, tracing the line of Olivia's spine with one hand and running her fingers through silky hair with the other. "Try to get some more sleep."

Olivia shook her head in the negative, pulling back to meet Sarah's eyes in the semi-darkness. "I don't want to sleep if you aren't. I don't want to…" Miss anything, that's what Olivia was desperate to avoid. She couldn't voice it though, was incredibly grateful when Sarah didn't make her try.

"You should rest. Savannah's going to need you."

"And you."

Sarah pulled a wry smirk. "I'll be resting plenty in the next few weeks."

Olivia released a shuddering sigh. At least Sarah was entertaining the idea of survival. "We'll both rest. We'll go to the cabin in New York after you're better. All of us. We'll read, relax, go fishing on the lake."

"We'll need to work on the walls, some of the floorboards."

Olivia rolled her eyes in spite of herself. "Of course you'd find gun placement relaxing."

Sarah smiled a moment longer, lacing her fingers with Olivia's before continuing. "Listen. Go no matter what. However this turns out."

Not again. She'd thought they were past this, _needed_ them to be past this. "We'll go together," Olivia repeated, biting her lip to keep from crying.

Sarah's mouth curved again as she reached out to press her thumb against Olivia's lips, soothing the irritated flesh. "Probably a bad time to bring this up, but have I told you that it's sexy as hell when you do that?"

"No, actually," Olivia replied, playing along because it was the only way to hold herself together. When Sarah pulled her close again Olivia went willingly, wrapping her body around Sarah's as if the contact would be enough to keep her there. More tears came despite Olivia's best efforts.

"I love you," Sarah stated, Olivia's tears staining her bare shoulder. "Just remember that. Always."

"I love you too," Olivia replied, struggling to make her voice even out. A pause. "I'll show you how much, once we're at the cabin." It was a pitiful attempt at humor, as evidenced by the sad smirk gracing Sarah's lips. When she answered though, there wasn't anything close to levity in her tone.

"I hope so," Sarah murmured, pressing another kiss to Olivia's shoulder-blade.


	15. Chapter 15

Olivia frowned as she looked between her alternate and Felicia Burnett. Very little was said as the redhead escorted them to the hospital. The other agent hadn't attempted the usual jokes, there was no semi-affectionate sniping between her and Sarah. There was only silence and carefully schooled expressions on everyone's part. Until they met Felicia Burnett in an empty hallway. Olivia immediately noticed the swelling around the other woman's lip, could tell by the way Sarah stiffened beside her that her lover did too. Incongruously, the doctor's damaged mouth curved into a hesitant smile, one that was returned more fully by this universe's Olivia Dunham.

"What happened?" Sarah demanded in a tone that was probably harsher than she meant. Worry and anger had that effect on her.

"Alvan and I are…splitting up," Felicia replied, one hand brushing her lower lip.

"The bastard came at her again and she hit him over the head with a table lamp," the redhead stated, smile widening as she offered a more complete assessment. "Knocked him out, then called me. By the time I got there Sleeping Beauty was starting to awaken and he wasn't in a great mood. Threatened to kill her in front of me, and I was forced to subdue him."

"She hit him with her gun," Felicia clarified.

"He wasn't listening to me. Isn't that one of the excuses he used on you?" the other woman asked, clearly referring to past beatings. "Local cops are still investigating, but it looks like Mr. Wonderful was giving law enforcement a bad rap. Bribes, intimidating witnesses, that sort of thing. He also tried to assault me after he couldn't finish up with her," said the redhead, nodding towards Felicia. "Bottom line, he's going to need a very good lawyer, which I doubt he can afford without you grabbing the tab."

Felicia didn't acknowledge the differences in pay. Her eyes went to the floor, the wan smile on her face close to disappearing. "I knew some of what Alvan was doing. Not…not much, he never told me everything, but I should've come forward sooner."

"Stop," Olivia ordered, forgetting momentarily about her own fears, about why they were there. "He threatened you," she said, not making it a question. "And those threats weren't empty. You did what you had to. You survived. That's the important thing."

"You also broke a blunt object against his skull. That's important too. And impressive," the redhead chimed in.

Felicia's gaze lifted again, her mouth slowly doing the same. "I did, yeah."

She seemed stunned by her own actions. Olivia wasn't. She'd seen another version of Felicia Burnett crack a Kaliba agent over the head with a shotgun. Glancing at Sarah, Olivia knew that her lover was entertaining similar thoughts. A look into another pair of eyes told Olivia that she and her doppelganger were also on the same wavelength. They were thinking of their respective stepfathers. The blonde had always wondered about the differences between them, if one had been slightly less sadistic than the other. Curiosity aside, it hadn't taken her long to realize that she probably didn't want to know. She wasn't sure if it would be better or worse to learn that her twin had endured less than she had.

"When did this happen?" Sarah asked.

"A few days ago," the redhead replied. "Could've gotten word to you earlier, but I figured the news might cheer you up some today."

"You were right," Sarah said. It sounded like she didn't want to utter the words, but there was warmth in her eyes. "Good for you," she continued, catching and holding Felicia's gaze.

"I didn't believe you. When you said I was strong enough to leave him, I didn't believe you." That statement wasn't news to any of the listeners. Felicia seemed to realize that, moving on quickly as she addressed Sarah. "But I was wrong. And it took me awhile, but I made myself believe long enough to keep my end of the deal."

Sarah's eyebrows went towards her hairline. "Was there a deal? I know I was flying high on Cortexiphan at the time, but I don't recall that."

"There's a deal now. I fought Alvan. Didn't think I could, but I did it. The Bishops are waiting. We're going to fight for you. Your end of the deal is that you do the same. You fight like hell, even when you feel like dying. And you _will _feel like dying. So. Deal?" Felicia asked, holding out a hand.

Olivia was starting to see more of the woman she knew in this version of Felicia Burnett. It was comforting, but it stung. She'd forgotten how blunt the doctor could be. Sarah had always appreciated that quality though, and Olivia could tell that she still did. Green eyes held green for long moments. Sarah gave Olivia's fingers a brief, tight squeeze before breaking the contact to take Felicia's hand instead.

"Deal."

* * *

"You want something to drink? Place across the street has this non-coffee substitute crap."

It was the third time in half an hour that she'd been asked about a drink. It was also the last straw. "If you don't want to be here, then don't be here." Sarah had gone with Felicia and the Bishops, leaving Olivia to languish in a waiting area that was near-empty. Olivia would've loved to have one less person there. Her twin had been looking for excuses to leave almost as soon as they claimed a couple of hard, uncomfortable chairs, and Olivia was past the point of putting up with it.

"As a matter of fact, I _don't _want to be here," the redheaded Dunham retorted. "But I don't have a choice in it either. And I know I've given you permission to use me as a punching bag before, but you don't have it right now. So do me a favor and back off, because whatever else you may still blame me for, I didn't make her sick."

Olivia couldn't answer immediately. The words and the venom behind them kept any sort of response from leaving her mouth. The other woman was almost impossible to rattle, possessing an easy confidence that Olivia envied. This was different and vaguely terrifying. Olivia had enough to be scared of already.

The outburst snapped a band of tension within both women. The redhead breathed deep and sat forward in her chair while the blonde leaned back against hers, closing her eyes and worrying her lower lip. They were quiet, then they locked eyes and apologized simultaneously, silently agreeing never to do so again.

"I'm sorry," the redhead repeated.

"You didn't make her sick," Olivia replied.

"That's not the point. I'm not great with sick. Hospitals, I'm not great with hospitals."

Olivia didn't try to hide her confusion. "You've been here-"

"Too many times. And I faked it during those."

"Faked it," Olivia repeated.

"I am capable of displaying _some _professionalism," the redhead replied. The hint of her usual smirk appeared then, disappearing just as quickly. "Amanda wasn't gone right away. After the Fringe event. She held on for awhile, and I had to hold on with her. It was bad, being in the hospital every day, watching things get worse. And I'm doing an exceptionally bad job of hiding that today."

Again, Olivia didn't know what to say. They hadn't talked about Amanda Simon since the redhead brought it up during their first meeting. Olivia hadn't loved her first college girlfriend, hadn't been _in _love with her. She'd bailed as soon as she felt that starting to change. But she could see why her doppelganger had, why they'd been together in this world. And she knew love, the feeling of losing it. She understood what her twin was describing, the helplessness of watching someone teeter on the brink, deteriorating until there was no hope left. It was everything Olivia feared, all that she'd experienced since the cancer was diagnosed.

"I'm sorry. About Amanda."

"Thanks."

The apology had seemed just as inadequate the first time Olivia offered it. "I'm not great with sick either. Or hospitals."

"Seems like you've handled it as well as anyone could."

"It's an act. I'm acting. Mom…near the end they moved her to the hospital. I hated it. I was scared. But I had to act. For Rachel."

"And now for Sarah." The other Olivia shook her head. "Must be hard."

"You would know," the blonde said quietly. "You must've done it for Amanda."

There was no confirmation. None was needed. "Ella, does she know much about Mom?"

"Yeah. Rachel and I have shown her pictures, told stories. There's a necklace Mom had, a cross. I gave it to Ella." The blonde didn't mention that she'd done that shortly before engaging in one of the toughest physical fights of her life. She didn't feel like telling her twin what a tough victory that had been.

"I know that one. Mom gave it to me after Amanda's funeral. Keep it in a box under the bed."

"I kept mine in the back of a closet." Olivia paused, checked her watch. Still too much time before the procedure would be finished. Before she had to go in and act for Sarah. "I could use a non-coffee actually, if you don't mind."

"I don't," the redhead replied, already getting up. "You going to be okay here?"

"As long as you trust me not to break your universe while you're gone." She was happy to give the other woman an out. Happy and envious. Olivia couldn't take it herself though. If a doctor came back with news, she couldn't be gone.

"I'll risk it for a decent caffeine fix."

The redhead confirmed her drink order and was about to leave when Olivia called her back.

"Liv." The name felt strange on her lips. She hardly ever used it. Liv was Sarah's name for her, something between them. Something Olivia had that the other woman didn't. But Olivia moved past her protectiveness of her relationship with Sarah long enough to address her twin now. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Liv replied, flashing one of the smiles she'd always been so much quicker with.

Olivia watched her go, hoping the other woman realized that her gratitude was about more than a drink run. She was almost certain that Liv understood. As the redhead had already pointed out, they were more alike than either of them liked to think.

* * *

Coming awake was a slow process. Sarah was aware of pain, mostly in her chest. There was a tube stitched in there somewhere, she remembered Walter and Felicia talking about that. Vaguely. The tube was giving her the marrow. And the drugs that were keeping her from forming much of a coherent thought. She tried to lift a hand to the place with the stitches, then decided it wasn't worth the effort. God she was tired, run down. How long had it been since she'd felt this bad?

Instead of locking on the most recent instance she'd felt like shit warmed over, Sarah drifted into a memory of the first. Reese. Running from the machine, trying to hold on as the world she knew spun out and away. She'd never been as exhausted as she was that first night with Kyle, not up to that point . He'd told her to sleep as they huddled together in the dark and she hadn't thought that was possible. She asked him to talk and he did, gave her nightmares. The same ones she'd eventually give to John as they lay curled up together, his head tucked under her chin.

She was drifting. She didn't want that. Her eyelids were forty-pound weights, but she forced them open anyway. White. Hospital white. She tried turning her head to see more of it, but her body was ten steps behind her brain. Then the white was disrupted.

Kyle was there. On her bed. He looked worried. She wanted to tell him it was okay, that she'd survived like she'd needed to, made sure their son survived. But if she talked about John she'd have to talk about Cameron, how the machine had driven a wedge between them. Except it wasn't Cameron's fault, not entirely. Not even mostly. And Kyle would know that. He'd said once that he'd never lie to her, and Sarah knew she'd never pull off lying to him.

"Reese."

Kyle frowned, then smiled. It was forced. He leaned forward to brush her hair back from her eyes and Sarah realized her mistake a millisecond before her visitor spoke.

"Mom."

Sarah closed her eyes, struggled to reopen them. She made her neck muscles work, looked to the right, to the light streaming in through blinds that were only half-closed. The disorientation and John's pose, the way the sun framed him, all of it had tricked her.

"Mom. You're okay. It's…it's John."

The last phrase sounded like an apology and Sarah mentally cursed herself for the slip. She searched for John's hand and he found hers, cradling it gently. His skin felt warm and real and Sarah thought that if he held the contact long enough she might be able to keep herself anchored in wakefulness. Reality. For such a long time, John had felt like the only thing in her life that was real. "I know," she told him. He didn't point out the obvious contradiction there and Sarah was grateful for that. Her voice was rough, scratchy to the point of unrecognizability. Clearing her throat helped nothing.

"Do you need some water? I can-"

She cut him off with a shake of the head and a tightening of the grip on his fingers "You look like him. Your father."

John ducked his head and ran his thumb over her palm. "I'll have to take your word for it," he said quietly. "How do you feel?"

"How do I look?"

"Great, actually."

Sarah did her best to scoff, ignoring the pain in her throat. "Must look even worse than I thought then."

John chuckled. Sarah thought his smile made the resemblance to Reese even stronger, but she wasn't totally sure anymore. She'd barely had time to experience Reese's smile, and her memories of him were losing their clarity. Since she'd been with Olivia, she'd stopped having to look to her recollections of Kyle for comfort. Mostly that was a good thing.

Not in moments like this.

"You're alive. You're going to stay that way now. Then you'll feel better, and then I won't have to lie."

"I hope not, you're terrible at it." A pause. "They tell you that, the Bishops or Felicia? That I'm getting better?" She shouldn't ask, but she wanted to see if he'd lie again.

He didn't. He stalled and looked out the window that was partially responsible for Sarah mistaking him for his father, but he didn't lie. "We won't know for a few days, whether or not the marrow's working. But it _will _work. You're just going to feel like hell for awhile while it does."

"Yeah, that part's ahead of schedule," Sarah retorted, choosing not to question the certainty of his assertions. "How are you?"

John laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm good, Mom. Be better when you're out of here."

"That makes two of us. Olivia and the other one kill each other yet?"

"Couple close calls I think, but no." John frowned. He'd only been on this side one other time, to give the marrow that was now trying to root itself in Sarah's body. He'd met Olivia's alternate, but still wasn't quite used to the doubles phenomenon. "Does that ever…weird you out still?"

"'That' being her? Something like that, yeah." Sleeping with the machine he'd kept a picture of for the last six years was enough. Sarah wasn't going to talk about her more instinctive reactions to Olivia's doppelganger.

"I can send Olivia in if you want. Felicia said only one visitor at a time right now but-"

"Stay. You can stay." They'd discussed it last night, though John didn't know that. Olivia had been the one to talk of sending John in first, talked as though it were a foregone conclusion. Impossibly, Sarah had fallen more in love with her then. "How was Savannah when you left?"

"She's okay. Hanging in. She just misses you. We all do."

"I'm right here," Sarah stated. But her voice was fading as she said it, the previous exhaustion crashing in instead of creeping up on her. Whether she wanted to be or not, Sarah was out again seconds after she finished the sentence.

* * *

The pattern continued through the rest of the day, brief periods of wakefulness, long stretches of sleep. Sometimes she'd wake up to Felicia or one of the Bishops. Sarah could discern no particular pattern to their rotation, but their words were always more or less the same. Her feeling like she was dying didn't necessarily mean that that was still the case. They kept feeding her drugs through the tube in her chest. Better than getting a needle jammed in her leg while held to the floor, but still unpleasant. There were transfusions too. Red cells, white cells, platelets, everything was low, so they gave her more of everything. None of it did much to make her feel better. That task went to Olivia.

She was the constant. Aside from the pain and exhaustion, Olivia was the only thing Sarah could count on whenever she opened her eyes. Sarah couldn't offer much in the way of conversation, and Olivia hushed her every time she tried too hard. Brutal as it was on both of them, Sarah was glad she'd said the important stuff last night while she still could.

Her mouth was agony. Her gums bled and there were sores that Sarah was glad she couldn't see. Infections were apparently par for the course, even with all the antibiotics. The pain in her mouth was either one of those, the first of many she could look forward to, or an unfortunate by-product of the chemo. When she was a kid Sarah used to bolt from her mother at the mere mention of cough medicine. When she was inevitably caught and forced to choke it down, she _would _choke. Make a show of gasping and gagging in the vain hope that it would produce something more palatable the next time she got sick. The cough syrup was heaven compared to the mouthwashes being forced on her now.

After she'd rinsed with the stuff three times without improvement, Walter suggested a change in tack. That was how Olivia came to be feeding her ice cubes when a male nurse poked his head in to announce that visiting hours would end shortly. By then Sarah was having a reaction to one of the transfusions, one that was supposed to pass soon. Her body couldn't decide if she was hot or cold. Her eyes still worked though, and she'd seen the look on the staffer's face when he left, just as she saw the distress in Olivia's features.

"Poor guy," she said after rejecting more ice. Her hand was in Olivia's while the blond perched at the edge of the bed. Sarah loved the contact and hated that she couldn't make her fingers stop trembling.

"What do you mean?" Olivia asked, trying not to notice what was happening.

"Probably thought the same thing I was when he came in here."

"Are you going to clarify or am I supposed to guess before time runs out?"

"You and I. A bed. I'm sweating, you're swirling ice around my lips, and I'm not wearing much under this hospital gown. Under different circumstances this would be a much more pleasant scene to walk in on."

"Under those circumstances the door would be locked, so it's a moot point. How's your mouth?"

The cold had taken the edge off the stinging without killing it. "Better. Thanks."

Olivia appreciated the lie too much to make an issue of it. "I could stay."

It was more plea than offer, and Sarah was ashamed of how badly she wanted to take it. "I always want you to stay, but you can't this time. You've been taking care of me all day. There's someone else higher up on the list."

Olivia didn't refute that. It would've been a selfish argument, and even if Sarah were to let her win, Olivia would still have to go home. James was with Savannah. John too when he wasn't visiting his mother. Neither of them were enough. "Anything you want me to tell her?"

Sarah closed her eyes, hauled in a breath. "Lots of things, but I said the important ones last night."

A lone tear made its way down Sarah's cheek. Olivia took it away with her thumb, not bothering to ask what kind of pain had produced it. She kissed the place where the moisture had been, keeping the contact brief. "She would've known whether you'd told her or not. We all know the important things. You show us every day."

Sarah smiled, wishing she felt well enough to do a better job of it. "You need to try sleeping tonight."

"So do you."

"Yeah, that'll be a change of pace from the rest of the day."

"Think of it as catching up on all the hours you've missed in the last thirty years." Olivia leaned forward, kissing the other woman's temple this time. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I know. I'll be okay."

Olivia wasn't entirely sure of that, had even less confidence in her own ability to get through the night. But she acted, pretended otherwise. Shutting the door behind her, she found the other version of herself in the hallway, leaning against the opposite wall. "Have you been here all day?"

Liv shrugged. "Not all day. She's still here, one of our team needs to be here. Lincoln relieved me for awhile, offered to take the night shift."

"And you didn't accept."

The redhead shrugged again offering no explanation.

Without fully understanding the relief she felt, Olivia addressed her double. "Listen, Sarah hasn't had the best experience with hospitals either."

"Pescadero, I've heard."

"Yeah." Olivia waited, knowing Sarah would disapprove of this conversation and hoping she wouldn't have to drag it out.

'I'll watch her."

"Thanks."

The redhead made a face. "Is this going to be a thing, us playing nice?"

Olivia smiled a little, shaking her head. "Stress, sleep deprivation. Hopefully that's all it is."

"Hopefully. Now get the hell out of here and get some rest."

"Goodnight to you too."

* * *

Olivia didn't rest. She tossed and turned in a painfully empty bed. She held Sarah's pillow in a failed attempt to hold the other woman's scent as well. When that didn't work she got up and went to the dresser. Sarah's flannel shirt was there, the one she'd worn while fucking Olivia in the kitchen. The blonde had almost packed it last night before remembering that Sarah only wore it for her benefit. The shirt was warm and soft and it smelled like Sarah. Olivia tossed aside her own top and put Sarah's shirt on.

Foregoing the quest for sleep, she wandered out to the living room, sitting on the couch where Sarah had spent a week waiting for John after the crash. Finding no comfort there, she crossed to the window where the brunette would wait for sunrise. Olivia waited now, feeling like time had all but stopped. She didn't know that she could take days more of this, waiting to discover Sarah's fate and being powerless to change it.

She gave up on the living room, considering and rejecting taking the whiskey from its shelf. She passed John's closed door, heard the soft sound of music playing. Halting in front of Savannah's room, Olivia silently cracked the door open. The lamp on Savannah's desk provided a soft light, allowing Olivia to see the girl properly. Savannah was sitting at the edge of her bed, eyes closed and hands clasped. Her lips moved soundlessly, but Olivia didn't need to hear the words.

James's influence. She hoped the act brought Savannah at least some of the comfort it gave to Ellison, wondered how much Savannah believed in what she was doing. She thought about making her presence known, joining in. Instead she closed the door and left Savannah to it. She didn't want her own doubts tainting whatever power the girl's prayers might have.

Olivia returned to the bedroom, perching at the edge of her own bed for lack of a better option. She thought about Sarah and nearly choked on pain and worry. Somewhat surprisingly, the feelings didn't change when she considered her alternate, sacrificing time with her son to guard Sarah. Olivia thought about Henry and his father. And Frank, the man who'd wanted to marry Henry's mother. And she thought about Amanda, the woman Liv would've married if things had been different. Without fully realizing what she was doing, Olivia grabbed her laptop off the nightstand.

* * *

Sarah slept, but not well. The drugs dragged her under and chopped her dreams into a series of splintered fragments. Those fragments were like glass. They cut into her.

She was at a funeral. Hers. Olivia, John and Savannah stood in front of an open casket. And then the body inside changed, became Cameron. The coffin turned to flames, burning flesh and metal. John reached for it and was consumed by the fire.

In another scene that was too hazy to really focus on. Reese was there. He was the only clear thing. He told her again that she had to survive and she repeated what she had years ago.

"I'm not strong enough. I'm going to die."

"Maybe. You've been wrong before."

She jerked awake then, back to the world of fatigue, pain and nausea. Sarah fell back against the pillows and touched a hand to her forehead. The heat she'd struggled with earlier was gone, but she still hurt and her stomach rolled. The air reeked of sickness, metal and scorched skin, though she knew that only one of the smells was really there.

Sarah lay in the dark in her too-small, white room. Solitude was usually her friend, but she was finding it difficult to cope with tonight. Her dreams kept trying to call her back and Olivia wasn't there to fight them off. Olivia was in another fucking universe.

The drugs weren't helping. The drugs and the room reminded her of Pescadero. She'd read somewhere before the transplant that the isolation could be frightening, that she should talk to one of the nurses about her feelings. She wasn't doing that. If she called a nurse in here the woman would probably leave with some kind of injury.

Sarah made herself leave the bed. She needed cold water, something harmless that would bring her closer to reality. That was what she told herself . Sore and shaky as she was, she made it to the bathroom after a couple of close calls. She splashed the water on her face, unsurprised when it did nothing to help. She considered throwing up, almost wanted to. But if she did that then she'd need more of those mouthwashes, and those would make her want to puke again. So she bit her lip and grit her teeth, ordering the protein drink that'd been her dinner to stay where it was.

She made the return trip slowly, holding on to whatever she could. Commands to calm the fuck down weren't reaching her brain. Her head was on a loop. Drugs. Pescadero. Death. Her eyes stayed closed a second too long and Sarah saw bombs and fire. She watched John riding towards a mushroom cloud on his motorcycle, saw Olivia and Savannah already engulfed in the heat. She opened her eyes, but the image wouldn't leave.

She'd never felt this alone, not even in Pescadero. She was so desperate for contact that she thought she'd be happy if Cameron came busting through the door, intent on getting her out of here. But Cameron was gone and Reese was dead and everyone else who mattered was in another fucking universe.

Fuck. She was falling into the same trap she had the first time she visited this hospital. Sarah knew that, but couldn't stop it. Just as she couldn't stop herself from falling for real halfway between bed and bathroom. She was falling into the same fucking trap and there was no Olivia to catch her this time.

"Whoa. Hey. Easy. I've got you."

Strong hands pulling her close, easing her down. A voice she'd know anywhere. "Liv?"

A pause. "Yeah and no."

Opening her eyes and regaining some semblance of control, Sarah's mind cleared enough to realize what was happening. She was sitting down, but she still had to be held up. She was half on top of a woman who was and was not Olivia Dunham.

"Christ," Sarah muttered, reaching depths of anger and humiliation she hadn't known existed. She had no idea how the woman got to her that fast, how she'd known to come at all. _Her _Olivia had pulled the same trick weeks ago and Sarah wasn't sure how that had worked either.

"Sorry, not him. Not even half-credit for that one."

"Shut the hell up."

"You're welcome."

"I'm fine, I've got this."

"Yeah, that's what it looks like. If I help, can you stand?"

"I don't need help."

"Yeah, that's what it looks like. Put your arm around my neck."

"If you think you're carrying me anywhere, you're out of your mind."

"Uh-huh. So here's how this is going to work. You either get over yourself and let me help, or I call a nurse. If I call a nurse, she's going to talk to Olivia in the morning. Your call."

Sarah jammed her eyes shut, fighting the sting of tears. "Just hurry up and get me to the bed," she replied, hooking an arm around the other woman's neck.

"Nice. Or it would be in almost any other context I can think of."

"Fuck you."

"Again, in a different context…"

The redhead did a three count and then they were moving. Thankfully Sarah was able to walk on her own, never mind how slowly, the redhead supporting most of her weight. They made it to the bed and Sarah was forced to accept help getting her legs over the side. She expected another comment when the redhead touched her bare legs, but none came. Sarah caught green eyes and wished she hadn't. Both Olivias looked the same when they were trying not to cry.

"Do you need anything else? Water?"

"I'm good," Sarah replied, turning her face away. The other woman didn't leave and Sarah didn't tell her to.

"I'm sorry. For what happened with Olivia. My Walter…he didn't tell me everything. What they were going to do to her."

No. No, no, no. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you need to hear it."

"No. I don't. I bought you those drinks a few weeks ago so that I wouldn't have to hear it. Me being in this room doesn't-"

"_Stop_."

The sharpness there drew Sarah up short. She refocused on green eyes, not having a choice in the matter.

"Sorry. Just…you're here to get better, not worse."

"Yeah."

A few beats of silence. "I screwed up. He told us that the people on your side were monsters and I didn't question him. I should have. I was stupid."

"You were human," Sarah corrected, barely suppressing a sigh.

"Yeah. That. I don't know. All the horrible things that had been tearing at this world, I needed…"

"Someone to blame."

"Yes."

Sarah paused, considered, took a calculated risk. "For Amanda."

The intake of air was barely audible. "Olivia told you."

"Yeah. She also told me that Amanda, the one she knew…she said good things. That she was special. A good person. And I'm sorry."

"She was. And thanks."

The redhead looked away, using her hair as a shield. Sarah had reached and passed her limit. Her eyes were burning. "Thanks for the help. I'm good now."

"You sure?"

"Just shut the door on your way out." There was no heat in the words. They were quiet and broken and Sarah trusted the other woman to realize what they were really about. She closed her eyes and waited for the sounds of steps receding and the door closing. Then she turned onto her left side and started sobbing.

On the other side of the door, Liv covered her mouth and crossed to the opposite wall. Making certain that the corridor was deserted, she faced the wall, leaned her head against it and cried.

* * *

Olivia returned to the hospital as early as she could the next morning, holding a small shopping bag in one hand. "Everything go okay last night?" she asked, meeting her alternate outside Sarah's door.

Liv offered a shrug and a half-smile. "Okay enough."

Olivia's eyes narrowed, but her need to ask more was outweighed by her need to get rid of her burden and get to Sarah. "Here," she said simply, holding the bag out to her doppelganger.

Liv's eyebrows moved towards her hairline. "Our birthday isn't for six months."

"Just open the bag."

The redhead did, retrieving a small sheath of printouts. Olivia spoke again before she could look any further

"The Amanda on my side, she moved about ten years ago. Teaches writing at UCLA, does freelance work on the side. Those are some of her columns. Maybe I made a mistake but-"

"No. You didn't."

Olivia ducked her eyes momentarily, not quite able to watch the other woman react to her gift. But she wasn't finished yet, so she made herself pull it together. "There's something else. Was she working on a novel when…when you knew her?" The attractive English major had just begun outlining story notes for that novel when Olivia bought her dinner and broke up with her.

Liv had been examining the columns. Now her eyes shot up. "Yeah. She was close to finishing. Wouldn't let me read a word until she had. It was on her laptop when she died." The redhead released a humorless chuckle. "Told you I was going to propose to her. Thought if I did it right she'd let me see what she'd been slaving over for three years."

"You never looked? After?"

"Wanted to. Thought about it a lot. Would've felt like cheating." Then Liv seemed to realize something. Reaching further into the bag, she came back with a medium-sized softcover book.

"She finished it. On my side," Olivia said needlessly. "I know they were different people, that it won't be what your Amanda wrote…" The blonde trailed off, the look on her double's face finally convincing her that she didn't need to say more. It didn't escape her notice that she was doing exactly what Walter had three decades earlier. Walter had shown his wife another version of their son, one who still had the chance to live and be happy. The consequences had been far-reaching to say the least. But given everything that'd happened between then and now, Olivia was confident in the redhead's ability to avoid Walter's mistakes.

"Thank you."

The voice didn't sound like it belonged to either of them. Olivia offered a sad smile. "There's a dedication in the book, they mention her in some of the articles. A woman. Another professor at UCLA."

Liv opened the book, turned a few pages. "So she's happy."

"Looks that way."

Liv thanked her again. Olivia accepted the gratitude, feeling like she'd done something important, perhaps facilitated some healing. At the same time, Olivia did something that was against everything she knew. She prayed. Prayed like hell that she wouldn't be Liv someday soon, forced to live off memories. Memories and evidence of the life of someone that had never been hers.

* * *

The next few days were more of the same. Infections, antibiotics, more infections. Olivia lost count of how many blood and platelet transfusions Sarah received. She and John hovered over her bedside, John's patience wearing thin. Sarah was bleeding and bruising again, and he asked why things were moving backward. Olivia repeated what the Bishops kept telling her. The high doses of chemo from the transplant were affecting Sarah in bad ways, but that didn't mean the procedure hadn't worked. Nor did it mean that it had. And much as she tried to do Sarah's job and ease John's fears, all the waiting was making Olivia just as anxious.

On the third night of this she was maintaining her usual vigil in a chair by Sarah's bedside. The brunette had been sleeping for hours and Olivia hadn't moved since she last opened her eyes. When the door opened she didn't look away, not until she realized who was there. "Walter."

The elder Bishop came bearing a plastic cup in each hand and a wan smile. "Hello my dear, I thought you might enjoy some refreshments."

He'd never seemed so old before. That was all Olivia could think as she looked at him. His skin was too pale and the lines of his face were more prominent than usual. Peter hadn't shaved in days, and Olivia wasn't certain when or if Felicia had left the hospital since everything started. She didn't dare look at herself in a mirror. "I'm okay, Walter, but thank you."

"Nonsense. When was the last time you ate?"

"I had something from the cafeteria this morning."

"Well whatever 'something' you had certainly doesn't qualify as food. Here, have a root beer float. They're quite delicious on this side."

"You've mentioned that," Olivia replied, not questioning Walter's assertion that root beer counted as a healthy food choice. Instead she took the cup with a half-smile that widened slightly when Walter pulled up another chair and sat down next to her.

"I know how distressing it is to watch someone you love go through this, but you must take care of yourself, Olivia. When Peter was sick, Elizabeth would run herself ragged…"

He trailed off in the middle of discussing his late wife, but Olivia doubted it had anything to do with confusion or homemade drugs this time. There was a look on his face that she felt a desperate need to get rid of. "Lucky I have you to watch out for me then."

"Indeed."

They sat in silence, taking occasional sips from their drinks. Olivia was glad for the company. Sarah had ordered James to focus on Savannah for now, and John couldn't be here for long periods of time. Olivia didn't blame him. She knew the impact of watching over an ailing parent, and it had to be worse for John. Sarah was usually so strong, solid as a rock. Now there was this room and all those drugs being pumped through the hole in her chest.

It occurred to her suddenly, when she next glanced at Walter and took in his tired features again. "Walter, it's late, you've been working nonstop. You don't need to stay here."

"Do you wish for me to leave?"

"No. I just meant that you don't _need _to be here."

"Oh," he said with a nod, as if that settled it.

Olivia was grateful when he didn't move. They were quiet a few moments longer before he spoke again.

"I know how difficult this is," Walter repeated. "I couldn't…I was never as strong as you, Olivia."

"What do you mean?"

"When Peter was ill I couldn't do this, be with him like this. I exhausted myself searching for a cure, in part so that I could avoid doing this."

He'd brought it up, what Olivia had been thinking about what this must be doing to him. She hurt for him, for the son he'd lost. She hurt more because that son had died despite his best efforts, and Sarah was here now, the recipient of all his best efforts. She didn't tell him what agony this was, that she too would be turning this world and the other over for a solution if she were able, if she hadn't been forced to place her faith and Sarah's life in the hands of others. "You did the best you could, Walter."

"I did," he agreed, something like a plea in his voice. "And I am now. You must know that, Olivia."

"I do, Walter," she said honestly. The hand that wasn't holding his root beer was gripping the chair handle. On impulse Olivia covered it with hers, squeezing gently. "I know that. No matter what happens, I know that. Thank you, Walter." Four days. That was the longest it had taken for any of the successful transplants to start working. They were on night three. Olivia tried to remember what she'd just said, that he'd done his best. She told herself that she wouldn't be resentful if his best wasn't good enough.

Walter looked at her hand covering his, then up into her eyes. He repeated this several times before setting his drink on the floor by his feet and putting his other hand over hers. His fingers were cold, but Olivia enjoyed the touch, the things it spoke of. There'd been no father to comfort her when her mother occupied one of these rooms. She'd spent half her time fearing that her stepfather would come back to finish what he'd started on her family, destroy them while Marilyn Dunham was dying and her daughters defenseless. Olivia's stepfather hadn't come, and neither had anyone else.

Olivia held the contact with Walter, considering the irony of it. The closest thing she had to a father was the man who'd intentionally frightened her as a child, dosed her with drugs that had the potential to do worse than kill her. Then Olivia remembered the Connors and the bonds they'd formed with various terminators, and she realized that her feelings for Walter weren't all that strange.

* * *

Walter didn't sit with her the next day. She never got to Sarah's room. When Olivia was about to turn into the hallway that would lead her there, Felicia and the Bishops were waiting. She slowed her pace as she got closer to them, putting more effort than she needed to into reading their faces. "It didn't take."

She wasn't asking a question. Peter closed his eyes and ducked his head. Walter held her gaze, but he looked close to tears. "I'm so sorry, Olivia."

"This is a new procedure." Olivia addressed Felicia, unable to answer Walter, admit that it was over. "People react differently, right? How do you know her system isn't just taking a little longer than normal? The transplant…it takes time to recover, she could still start to accept the marrow."

"It's possible," Felicia said in a way that indicated it wasn't. "But based on all the previous cases, we would've seen some improvement by now. She's here for the next few weeks regardless, obviously we'll continue to monitor her, but I don't want to hold out false hope. At this point we have to assume the transplant failed. I'm sorry."

She meant it, Olivia could tell. They should talk. About options, other treatments. Except there weren't any. This had been their last bet, like Peter said. And they'd lost. Still there were things to say, things _Olivia_ needed to say.

"You never had to give us bad news before."

She was talking to Felicia, had somehow forgotten _which _Felicia she was speaking with. Olivia knew enough to realize that she was in shock, to be disturbed by how toneless her voice was, but she had no control. She went numb to keep herself from drowning in pain, and she managed to stay remarkably steady when she asked her next question.

"Have you told Sarah?"

* * *

They hadn't, they'd waited for her. When they did break the news, Olivia felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. She was in a hospital, holding Sarah's hand, getting terrible news from a doctor, just like when they first learned of the cancer. And again, Sarah didn't seem at all surprised to hear that she was dying, that there was nothing to be done for it.

"Forty percent, not great odds. We always knew that this was only a chance."

Her words to Olivia once they were alone. As if they meant anything. Compared to what they'd faced before, this should've been a sure thing. It wasn't though, and John must've realized that as soon as he got word from Olivia to stay in his own universe that day. Sarah wanted him to hear it from her, but that would mean telling him and Savannah separately. She couldn't handle that, could barely keep her eyes open for more than ten minutes.

So Olivia told James first, asked him to bring Savannah home. Then she told both of Sarah's children that their mother was dying. Savannah raged and cried, voicing everything Olivia was thinking. How wrong it all was, how unfair. John hugged them both, then apologized and retreated to his room

Olivia woke at seven that evening to a feeling of warmth and a burning sensation in her arm. It took her a minute to realize that she'd fallen asleep on the couch, that Savannah had fallen asleep on her left arm. Olivia looked at a clock to confirm the time, then looked at Savannah. Her face was still wet with tears and she looked to be in agony even as she slept. Pins and needles stabbed through Olivia's arm, but she didn't move. She'd slept sitting up, with Savannah leaning heavily against her. An afghan that wasn't there before had been thrown over them. Olivia listened to the silence of the house, knew instinctively that John wasn't there. She didn't have to guess where he'd gone. Olivia couldn't decide whether she wanted to join him or not. Perhaps if she stayed here she could keep pretending, pretending there was still hope, that Sarah would cross through that front door soon and be healthy.

Olivia looked at Savannah again and wondered what she was going to do, how she was supposed to hold them together without Sarah. Sarah, the one who'd been holding _her _together all this time.

Olivia closed her eyes but the tears still came. She kept them silent, but her body shook. Savannah didn't wake. It was the one thing Olivia had to be grateful for.

* * *

She was sleeping when John entered the room. The lights were off, the blinds drawn. His mother was resting on her side, back to him. He shut the door and crossed to her without a sound. There were two chairs in the corner but he took neither. Instead John paused at the edge of the bed, studying her in the semi-dark. She looked too peaceful. An odd thing to say about anyone, but it was true for his mother. Her hands were out in front of her, near the pillow she was resting on.

John watched her a moment longer before going to his knees. He faced her, just barely touching his hand to one of hers. He rested his head on the mattress and held himself a moment longer. Then he broke, face contorting with a pain that was beyond anything he'd ever felt physically. Hand still over his mother's he started to cry. The tears stained her sheets as John's shoulders rose and fell roughly.

He stayed there a long time, but Sarah never heard him. He'd learned to cry silently, the same way his mother always had.


	16. Chapter 16

James was raising his hand to ring the bell when the door swung open. "Savannah's asleep," John said by way of greeting. Then he turned back into the living room, leaving the door open.

Realizing he wouldn't get a warmer invitation, James stepped inside the brownstone, closing the door behind him. "Olivia leave for the hospital already?"

"Yeah."

John's tone was disturbingly hard to read. He'd crossed into the kitchen and James followed him. There was a plate of bacon on the counter and John was at the stove. "You need any help?"

"No. Thanks. Help yourself if you're hungry."

"I'll pass." John shifted his weight slightly, giving Ellison a better view of the oven. He was making pancakes. "I saw the bike in the driveway. How's your knee?"

"I'll live. Bike's been parked at Peter's for too long. I'll move it somewhere else before Mom gets home."

James didn't know what to say. The obvious questions had obvious answers, he wasn't going to insult the boy by asking about his mood. He also lacked any kind of response to the comment about Sarah coming home.

"Savannah told me to tell you that she doesn't need a babysitter."

"And you told her what?"

"That you aren't a babysitter. That she shouldn't be alone."

John wasn't looking at him, so Ellison's nod was mostly for himself. "And what about you?"

"I'm seeing Mom later today."

Ellison didn't push, though John's answer gave him nothing. The timing was impossible to ignore, John's sudden need to reclaim his motorcycle coming so soon after Sarah's worsened prognosis. The bike's presence confirmed one of Ellison's fears, a fear he hadn't been alone in. "Nina's been talking about stopping in."

John flipped a pancake and shook his head. "Mom won't want Nina seeing her like that. She barely tolerates it with Olivia and me."

"Which is why talking is all that Nina's been doing." A pause. "She did ask me to speak to you. About a job."

"A job?" John repeated wryly. "She already got Mom to help her out, is she aiming to hire the whole family?"

"It's a good family, and Sarah is part of the reason the job's on the table. When we were discussing the security upgrades at Massive Dynamic, Sarah reminded Nina of how you and your team were able to hack the company mainframe. She wants to know how you did it, what needs to be done to keep others from doing it."

"Hire a hacker to keep the hackers out, is that it?"

"Pretty solid plan, I think."

"So do I, but I'm not going to be part of it. Tell Nina thanks but no thanks."

"Do I get to tell her why?" James asked, pretending not to know what he was stepping into. The job proposal was Nina's substitute for visiting, after she realized that Sarah would rather see John kept stable than have the CFO of Massive Dynamic see her weak and wasting.

John grabbed a nearby plate, shifting the pancakes onto it before turning off the stove. He didn't turn to face the other man. "I'm a little preoccupied right now, James."

"I know. But what happens when you aren't?"

John took the pancakes and the bacon to the table. "Why don't you ask me what you really want to ask me? And hand me the syrup if you really want to help. Cabinet behind you, on the right."

James retrieved the bottle. "Not a lot there," he said once he was close enough to see how much food John had made.

"I'm not eating either." John had one hand gripping the edge of the table. His knuckles went white when he spoke again. "Mom's not eating much, can't keep it down. Felicia's talking about feeding her intravenously if things don't get better."

James closed his eyes and fought the burn that was building there. He struggled to open them again, to keep his voice level. "And if things don't get better, is it going to be another couple of years before we see you again?"

"Is this really the time for a guilt trip?"

"No. You asked me to be straight with you, that's what I'm doing. Are you going to leave if…if things don't improve?"

John shook his head and looked away, took his time answering. "Maybe."

Maybe meaning probably. Or yes. "And Savannah?"

"Savannah knows how to make her own breakfast."

John was trying to be flip, like the person he'd been six years ago. Ellison had sat through more than his fair share of interrogations. He wasn't buying it. "John-"

"Twenty percent. That's how much better her chances would've been if I'd gotten the Cortexiphan too. _Twenty_ _percent_."

"There's nothing you could've said to make your mother agree to that. Nothing." When John didn't reply, Ellison filled the silence. "If the worst happens and Sarah isn't here anymore, you leaving won't change that."

The smile John offered was cool and mirthless. "You think leaving is what I want? It isn't. But I don't want to sit here and watch my mother die either, and that's still happening. What I want doesn't usually come into play."

"The difference, John, is choice. What's happening to Sarah isn't something you can control, but no one's forcing you to leave. That's your choice."

"Choice," John repeated. "It's always about choice, isn't it? No fate but what we make." He ducked his head and pushed off from the table, wincing as he put too much weight on his left leg. "I'm going to get Savannah up. She'll probably want milk if you don't mind grabbing it. There's coffee if you want, orange juice."

John was leaving before he finished speaking. Without another choice, James went to the fridge, hoping he'd at least given the boy something to think about. Hard to tell. John could be as stubborn as his mother. That thought brought a lump to his throat and James said a silent prayer as the mid-morning sun streamed into Sarah's kitchen.

* * *

The door was open when he knocked. Olivia was there, unsurprisingly. "Astrid's over at your place," James stated, quelling the fears he knew Sarah would have. "She brought a pie. And a cobbler. And if you have any baking ingredients in the house, you probably won't anymore."

Olivia forced a smile as James entered the room. "Stress baking binge again?"

"So it would seem." James was trying not to think of what John said about Sarah needing an IV drip to eat.

"Savannah will love that." Sarah's smile was groggy but slightly more genuine than her lover's. One of her hands was clasped in Olivia's and she tightened her grip slightly. "Remember the week before J-Day? It's amazing that all of us didn't fall into diabetic comas before we got the chance to see that the world hadn't blown up."

"We would've missed a great party if we had," Olivia stated, forcing levity. "Astrid with all those cakes, Walter smoking whatever it was he'd been smoking that day."

"Forever ruining 'We Are the Champions for all of us," Sarah added.

James chuckled but halted partway between the door and Sarah. "If this is a bad time I can come back later."

"I'm awake," Sarah replied. "Probably won't be later." She was speaking to James but looking at Olivia.

"Well," the blonde said after the slightest hesitation. "I think I'll grab something from the cafeteria. You want anything?" she asked, addressing James.

"Astrid, remember?"

"Right." Olivia stood from the chair she'd been occupying. Leaning down, she kissed Sarah's temple and cupped her cheek. "Be right back," she said quietly.

"Not going anywhere."

Olivia fought to keep her voice from breaking, wishing that statement were as true as it should be. She gave herself a few extra seconds before releasing Sarah's hand.

James brushed Olivia's arm as she passed. He tried to convey his feelings in the look they shared. Olivia nodded, squeezed his arm in return, then left them to themselves. James took the seat Olivia had vacated, feeling utterly lost. Sarah's eyes tracked him, but they were clouded, lacking the sharpness that had kept him on his toes for so long. "I don't know what to say, Sarah."

"Well that's bad, because you were always the better conversationalist. How are John and Savannah?"

"They're all right. As much as they can be."

"You're a better liar than John is. Might want to give him some pointers."

James shook his head. "I'll leave that to you."

Sarah studied him hard. "Still hoping for a miracle, aren't you?"

"I've seen some pretty miraculous things since I met you."

"You and I see the last few years very differently."

"True. Part of what's kept things interesting."

"You're right. And you're right about John not being your responsibility. Did you talk to him about the job?"

"I did. He reacted like you said he would."

Sarah sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "He said he didn't want to run anymore, but he will. Because of me."

"Not because of you. And we don't know yet what he'll do."

"No. And I can't control that. Neither can you. Savannah's different though, she listens to you. And she _is _your responsibility, yours and Olivia's."

"You don't need to tell me to look out for Savannah, you never have."

"Wrong. You've never needed to hear it, but I still have to say it. You've been a good sport for six years; I think you can cut me a little more slack." Sarah smiled wryly. James didn't, but he nodded . "Olivia's mother died when she was young. And she probably won't say this out loud, but I think part of Olivia resented her for it. For leaving her and Rachel too early."

"No one's ever ready to lose a parent."

"No, but some are more ready than others. Wouldn't it have been worse if your father died twenty years ago instead of ten, if he left you with the responsibility for your brothers and sisters?" Sarah didn't need a response to know she'd made her point. "Savannah won't be alone, I know that. But part of the reason Olivia has mixed feelings about her mother…it's not just the fact that she died."

"Her stepfather."

"Yeah."

"Olivia's mother couldn't protect her. But you've done that for Savannah. You've gone above and beyond what anyone could expect."

"It's not enough. I can't protect her from _me_. You know I've hurt her."

"So have I. So has Olivia. No one's flawless, Sarah."

"I know. But I can't protect her from this, either," Sarah replied, raising her hand to indicate their surroundings. It shook and she cursed inside, and then James's hand was over hers. Most any other time, she would've pulled her fingers back, despite what they'd witnessed and done together. She didn't take her hand away, though she did flash on Silberman's cabin, the fire, reaching out to Ellison as the smoke burned her lungs. Her chest was starting to hurt now, probably another infection. Sarah was supposed to tell the nurse about these things right away. She ignored the tightness and kept talking. "There are things I should've said, should've fixed. I won't have time for that now."

"You don't know that."

Sarah smiled at his faith. Not because she shared it, but because years of knowing her hadn't shattered it to pieces. That said a lot about him, more than she could ever express. "Just remind her of the good. There'll be times when she forgets. I know, because I see it with Olivia , usually when the stepfather comes up. She loved her mother, I know that. I know Savannah loves me. But there are wounds, things Olivia and Marilyn never got to heal between them. And there are wounds between Savannah and I. And when those start to hurt, I need you to remind her that I didn't mean this. To screw up the parts that I screwed up, to not have the chance to fix them. She can't think of me the way she thinks of Weaver."

"You're right, she _can't_. She wouldn't. You putting yourself in the same _sentence _as Weaver-"

"Just…don't let it happen, James. Don't."

"I won't," James replied after a heavy silence. "I promise."

"I know. Just needed to hear you say it."

* * *

Olivia woke to a sore neck and the smell of hospital sheets. She'd pulled her chair close to the bed, fallen asleep with her head resting on the mattress. She'd been living in that hospital chair for days, thought it was the pain in her upper body that woke her until she felt a hand in her hair. When Olivia straightened, she found Sarah awake and observing her.

"Hey you," Sarah said, letting her fingers drift to the ends of soft golden hair.

"Hey. You okay? Do you need anything?" Olivia asked, instantly shaking off the drowsiness from her nap.

Sarah's hand drifted. Finding Olivia's lips, she ran her thumb across them while shaking her head. "Just you."

"You've got that," Olivia replied, trying to keep her lip from trembling under Sarah's touch.

The brunette shook her head again. "Come up here. Bed's smaller than ours, but we've made due with worse."

"Sarah-"

"Olivia. You need to rest, but you're not doing it like that, and I won't be able to sleep if you try."

Olivia doubted it would matter. Whatever Sarah said or wanted, she'd be out again soon. It wasn't worth the argument though, so Olivia left the chair and crossed to the other side of the bed. With exceeding caution, she slid in next to Sarah, shifting until she was spooning her lover from behind. "Am I hurting you?"

"Never."

Olivia closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Her chin was to Sarah's shoulder. If she turned her head slightly, she could breathe in the smell of the other woman's hair. She did, then wished she hadn't. Sarah's natural scent was still there somewhere, but it was almost overpowered by a mixture of unpleasant hospital smells. Olivia's shoulders shook as she fought to contain the sobs.

Sarah's hands went to her own waist. Olivia's fingers were resting there. "You can let this out, you know."

Olivia would've laughed if she weren't so close to crying. Of the two of them, she shouldn't be the one falling apart. "No, I can't."

"Why?"

The obvious answer involved weakness, but that wasn't the true reason. She thought about lying or simply not responding, but she owed the other woman more than that. "If I let it go, it means I'm letting _you_ go. And I can't do that." Olivia didn't think it made sense, couldn't explain any better. She just couldn't cry, not like she wanted to. She'd shed a few tears, but not enough. Savannah had sobbed for hours in her lap. When she saw John the next morning she couldn't doubt that he too had poured out his grief. Olivia hadn't. Letting go of the anguish meant acknowledging it, and in her mind, acknowledging it would speed the process along.

Sarah sighed, bringing one of Olivia's hands to her lips. They were too dry, close to splitting open. "Tell me something. Have you ever known anyone, any two people, who have what we do?"

Olivia jammed her eyes shut. Her lower lip was close to drawing blood. "No." The word was barely there, barely more than a breath.

"Me neither. And we weren'tsupposed to have it. You know that. I told Savannah once that every second after Judgment Day was a gift. And they were. We used them to make a life together. And I told her the other day how important that life was, how impossible it should've been. It's the truth, Liv."

Past tense. Sarah was starting to slip, speak as if everything they'd built was already gone. "It's not enough. Not yet."

"No. But would it have ever been enough? Would either of us ever be ready for it to end?"

No. Never. But that wasn't the point. It was too hard to voice those thoughts. Olivia already felt like the tears might drown her from the inside. "There's still too much. You have too much left to do with your life."

Sarah actually chuckled. "You don't think saving a couple of worlds was enough?"

"You're talking about our mission, not our life. You're the one who taught me there was a distinction."

Sarah didn't answer immediately. There wasn't a rebuttal. "You're right," she admitted, changing tacks slightly. "Everything Walter did to you, the Cortexiphan, that was for a mission. Your mission was to save the world and you did that."

"_We _did that."

"We," Sarah conceded. "But you need to listen to me now. You need to hear me. Remember when you came home from that bar with Peter, after you couldn't find anything at Massive Dynamic? I told you that it wasn't your job to save me. It's not. This isn't something you could've fixed, some mission that failed. You didn't fail me, you never have."

Olivia was shaking. Like Sarah had during all those Cortexiphan treatments that meant nothing. "We wouldn't be having this conversation if that were true."

Sarah wanted nothing more than to shift, force Olivia to look her in the eye. It was impossible, her energy was dropping again. She still had both of Olivia's hands, one near her lips, the other around her waist. She had to settle for squeezing both of them as hard as she could and putting whatever steel she had left into her voice. "No. _No, _Liv. You aren't going to carry this. This is not on you. Don't ever think it is. I had ten years of extra time. For most of that, I had you. Hold on to that. Carry that. But don't you put this on yourself. Don't ever, _ever _do that."

Sarah wanted a response. Olivia didn't have it. The silence stretched until she felt Sarah's grip on her hands loosen, followed by a muttered curse from the brunette. "What's wrong?" Olivia asked urgently.

"Nothing." There was a hint of disgust in her voice, but mostly there was exhaustion. "God. I'm sorry, I'm just getting so tired…"

Olivia made herself breathe, made herself believe that sleeping wasn't leaving. "I know," she said, forcing the words out as she brushed Sarah's cheek with her mouth. "I know. Close your eyes. I'll be right here."

"Don't you carry this," Sarah repeated, voice fading with every syllable. "Don't you hurt yourself like that. Don't let me be the one who hurts you like that."

Sarah drifted again, Olivia heard the change in her breathing almost before the sentence was out. The blonde lay there a long time, trying to quiet the storm that threatened to overtake her. The tears came slow but steady, she couldn't force them back. She clutched Sarah tighter, then checked herself. She thought that maybe if she just held on, refused to let Sarah go, her lover would have to stay. She fantasized about holding Sarah tightly enough and closely enough that she could somehow draw the sickness out, take it into her own body. She would've made the tradeoff gladly. The prospect of losing her own life was appealing compared to carrying on alone.

The trembling wouldn't stop, got worse the more she tried to quell it. She was crying silently now, but she couldn't anymore. Carefully easing Sarah away from her, Olivia left the bed and smoothed the blankets around her lover, cursing her inability to stay, to be with Sarah like she'd said she would. She couldn't take it anymore. Days and days of this, with no end in sight except for the one she didn't want.

Olivia was gasping when she exited the room. Her twin was there, saying something the blonde couldn't hear. The tears burned her eyes. She couldn't breathe for trying to swallow them down. The hallway split off at the end, going in two directions. Olivia didn't know or care which one she would take. She walked fast, half-blind with tears and grief. Peter turned into the corridor a few seconds before she would've crashed into him.

Peter's face fell as he looked at her. "Olivia…"

Olivia tried getting around him but he didn't want that and she was slower than usual. He reached for her and she pounded at his chest, barely aware of what she was doing. She knew intellectually that the transplant failure wasn't Peter's fault, but she wasn't running on intellect. She hurt. there was no fixing it, and she didn't want Peter trying.

Peter let her hit him, knowing he'd be bruised in the morning. He let her drive him back a few steps as her body convulsed with sobs. He waited for her to stop and when her hands were buried in his shirt and scratching at the flesh underneath, he put his arms around her. She went from fighting to clinging, grasping at him with a ferocity he'd never known. She pressed her head hard into his shoulder and he took her weight without a word, losing a hand in her hair and rubbing her back with the other. He held her close, shutting his eyes so he wouldn't cry. She'd never lost it this badly, not even the night they went to the lab together. He opened his eyes and saw the other Olivia Dunham looking on helplessly. He met the redhead's gaze over Olivia's shoulder, shaking his head and saying nothing because there was nothing to say, nothing to do that would make this better.

* * *

Peter sat forward on Liv's couch, pressing the knuckles of his right hand into his forehead. He'd given the pain pills more time than he could afford and gotten nothing in return. Liv gave him access to her tablet computer, years beyond anything available on his side. His eyes stung from too much time staring at the screen, but he picked it up anyway. On another part of the coffee table sat a book by someone he didn't know. Amanda something. He could've read the upside-down title if not for the migraine threatening to beat his skull to pieces.

"Well," said the redheaded Olivia Dunham as she exited her son's room. "He is _finally _down for the count. He really loved it, you being here."

"He's barely seen you either. Amazing what good company he thinks we are, even when we're not."

Liv halted behind the couch, looking over his shoulder at her tablet screen. Cancer research. "I thought you said nothing could be done."

"I don't think it can be. I'm trying to be wrong."

Liv offered a small half-smile, squeezing his shoulder briefly before crossing to her kitchen. "Drink?"

"Love one, but what I want, you don't have."

"Are we talking coffee or whiskey? Because I've actually got one of those."

Peter raised an eyebrow, one arm moving to rest on the back of the couch as he shifted to look at her. "Since when do you drink alcohol?" he asked, knowing the redhead couldn't afford coffee at its prices Over Here.

Shrugging, Liv grabbed a bottle from her pantry and two glasses from one of the cabinets. "Sarah sometimes liked to stop for drinks after the Cortexiphan treatments."

"And you as her escort had to partake as well?"

"Sort of."

"She made fun of you until you learned to drink."

"Don't judge me, Bishop."

Peter laughed, turning back to his work when she held the bottle up in a way that suggested she might throw it at him. As he was scrolling to a new page, he touched a button he hadn't meant to, and his eyes went wide. "What's this?" he asked, holding up the small computer.

Depositing their glasses on the table, Liv joined him on the couch, keeping a bit of distance between them. Her screen was filled with a picture of Sarah Connor, but not the Sarah that either of them knew. This woman was young and scared, with big hair and eyes that weren't yet hardened by years of war. "Sarah Connor's '84 police file. _Our _Sarah Connor."

"I figured that. Is there a reason you pulled it?"

Liv gave a half-shrug, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. "I was thinking the other night about how much I _hadn't _thought of her. What she must've been through. If she's anything like the woman we know, it was a lot."

"Obviously they're similar enough," Peter replied, scrolling until he found a picture of the Cyberdyne ruins. "They both blew Cyberdyne sky high."

"But our side's Sarah Connor never came on the radar again after that. Her, John, the machine, nothing on any of them since '97."

"Well if the Sarah we know is any indication, we can guess what probably happened. The machine was scrapped, the Connors went underground."

"I know. But something must be different here. They never resurfaced here, so something must've changed." Liv shook her head. "It's all so complicated, and none of it has anything to do with why I pulled the file."

"Well? Do tell." Peter didn't mention what Olivia told him months ago about Sarah being aware of her health risks. He didn't say that there was a good possibility that the Sarah of this world had died of cancer ten years earlier.

"It's just…not right. That I hadn't thought of her before. She went through hell, just based on what we know from this file. And hardly anyone knows that, acknowledges it. I was thinking about John._ Both _Johns I guess," Liv said with a roll of the eyes. "To have a son that important, in that much danger every second of the day. I go to work every day and I kiss Henry goodbye and I hope it won't be the last time I see him, but I don't have to worry about him being on some computer's hit list, always at risk. I can't imagine that. But the other night I felt like I had to. Out of respect maybe, I don't know. For her."

Peter pulled up another photo of Sarah at the police station. Most of the small amount of information that'd been collected there in '84 had survived that first machine's rampage. Peter moved to a different picture, this one of Kyle Reese in an interrogation room. If these images existed on Peter's side, John couldn't have seen them. He remembered John talking once about wanting to know what his father looked like. He'd been mildly drunk at the time. Peter made a mental note to see about getting the picture to John, then thought of what Reese must've been saying in that moment. Seemingly nonsensical things about the savior of mankind. His son, though he hadn't known it.

"You know what my first thought was when I found out about Henry, the very first thing to pop into my head?"

Liv's eyebrows went towards her hairline. "I assumed there were a lot of four letter words involved."

Peter didn't laugh or smile. "I was terrified that he was going to die. Because of me. The sickness I had as a kid, it was genetic. That was almost all anyone knew about it, that it was some genetic defect. And I was terrified I had passed that on, that he'd suffer the way I had."

"Henry's fine. Your father-_both _your fathers-have checked him out a hundred times."

" I know that, But that fear is still there. I worry that someday he _won't _be fine. And to live every day with that fear multiplied ten-fold," Peter shook his head. "Like you said, hard to imagine anyone surviving that."

Liv nodded, more to herself than to Peter. She examined another picture of Sarah Connor, this one taken in the hospital after she crushed that first machine. "Hard to imagine anyone surviving even half of what's in that file."

Peter set the tablet aside on the armrest, sat forward again. It was so fucking unfair, them having to sit here like this, Sarah fading away in a tiny, sterile hospital room. She'd earned more than that. They all had, but especially Sarah. And Olivia. She'd earned more than losing someone else, especially like this. Picking up his drink from the table, Peter raised it in Liv's direction. "To Sarah Connor."

The redhead took hold of her own glass, clinking it against his. They were about to drink when her phone rang. It was her cell, the personal one she used outside of work because the hands-free comm devices issued by Fringe Division always seemed to slip from her ear. It was the phone Henry called her on during that first meeting with Sarah, back when there was still hope.

"Dunham," she said, taking the cell from her pocket.

Peter put his drink down untouched. For the first few seconds he was only half-listening to Liv's side of the conversation, enough to realize she was speaking to this world's Astrid. Then Liv asked the agent to repeat herself and something in the redhead's tone made Peter look up. "What's going on?" he asked because Liv's face had lost a considerable amount of color.

Liv held up a hand, telling him to wait. "Have you told Lincoln? Good. Do we have a trace? Okay, I want you to send the coordinates to my phone. Tell Lincoln to lock the building down, no one in or out. I want guards on her door."

"Liv, _what's going on?"_

"Hang on," Liv said into the phone, half-covering the mouthpiece. To Peter, "You remember how paranoid Sarah was about John's hospital records being in the system?"

"Yes."

"Well it's not paranoia if they really are out to get you. I have Astrid monitoring the system and it looks like someone outside of it is accessing the Connors medical files. We've got a lock on their location though," Olivia paused, scanning her phone screen, "and it's not far from here."

Peter was up and moving in a second, back to half-listening as he left the room and made his own call. He heard Liv say she was going to move on this, heard her requesting backup but telling Astrid to make sure they waited. Made sense. Could be nothing, a kid in his basement. But if this was Skynet, they didn't need to rush in and face another massacre like the one James Ellison had survived.

"Astrid says that Lincoln already talked to Olivia," Liv declared when she found Peter heading towards her bedroom.

"I didn't call Olivia," he replied, secretly glad that the job wasn't his. "Called your neighbor."

"Why?" Liv ended her own conversation, but still had her cell in one hand.

"Because we need a sitter."

"No."

"You're not doing this yourself."

"And I'm not doing it with you, either."

"How many chips have you pulled? From the machines, how many?"

"Probably less than you," Liv admitted with obvious reluctance.

"_Definitely _less," Peter corrected. The machines had always been more prevalent on his side than hers. Perhaps Skynet hadn't been as interested in a world that was already so unstable. "I know more about how these things work. If this is a machine and we have to yank it's brain out, I'll be faster at it. You still keep the backup gun in here?"

Liv didn't argue because she didn't have time. Neither of them stated the obvious. That if this _was _a machine, the chances of them getting close enough to pull its chip were minimal. One of her marksmanship awards hung in a frame on the wall. She could only hope for a lucky shot. Aim for the chip, that was always the rule.

"Move," Liv ordered, shoving past Peter to get to her bed. Dropping to the floor, she pulled a small safe from under it, entered a code that wouldn't have worked if the computer didn't recognize her fingerprints. Henry's arrival meant being infinitely more careful with her weapons. The safe held the gun, a bit of money and a few other miscellaneous items. She handed Peter the firearm butt-first. "You remember how to use that?"

Peter checked the clip, replaced it a second later, cocked the gun. "You kidding? Weapons proficiency is one of the top prerequisites for membership in Sarah's little club."

Nodding in satisfaction, Liv waved him towards the door. "You go, wait for Mrs. Henderson. I'll be out in a second."

Liv watched him go into their son's room instead of the main one, saying nothing. Turning back to the safe, she pushed things aside until she found her mother's cross. She'd understated a bit when telling Olivia that she kept the necklace in a box under the bed. She eyed it for a moment, running her fingers along the chain. Liv had heard the same thing as her alternate, that the cross would bring safety. She'd never believed it, didn't now.

She still slipped the chain around her neck, tucking the tiny piece of metal under her shirt so it wouldn't be a target.

* * *

It was a basement apartment. Stairs, stairs and more stairs that led underground. The hallway they were in was dimly lit and cold. They stood on either side of the door, Liv choosing to forego the announcement of their presence and deal with the rights violation later. Predictably the door was locked. Peter's hands moved faster than Liv could see, and then it wasn't.

They entered together, sweeping eyes and guns over the immediate danger zones. The place was Spartan, to say the least. Small fridge, ancient looking stove. Cheap couch, cheap folding chairs around a flimsy kitchen table. There was a metal desk nearby, holding an impressive bank of computers that no one was manning.

"Fridge probably means food," Liv said from the corner of her mouth. "Food probably means human."

"Probably," Peter agreed, though they both knew that nothing here could be taken at its face. The place was big, or it's emptiness made it look that way. There was a hallway off the main room, doors on either side. They went to it together, Peter going left and Liv right. Peter was about to enter a room with little more than a bed in the middle when the lights went out.

"Peter?"

"Liv," he said, backtracking and doing a bad job of keeping his panic down. Sarah had told him about her first encounter with a terminator, how the machine killed the power in the police station.

"Peter?" Something creaked. There were footsteps, heavy. Then there was a cracking noise and Peter cried out in pain. Liv moved towards where she thought the sound was, aiming her gun at pitch blackness. She called for Peter again and got nothing. "This is Agent Olivia Dunham, Fringe Division. Anyone in this room, identify yourselves and put your hands on your heads!"

She expected nothing and got just that. She'd switched to the hands-free communicator she used on assignments. She called for backup and got static. No signal down here.

"Liv!" Peter's voice came booming out of the darkness.

"Peter! You okay?"

"Someone tried bashing my head in, did a bad job. We have to get these lights on."

They were sitting ducks, forced to shout out their positions to keep from shooting each other. Liv finished that thought just before a hand clamped itself over her mouth, yanking her backwards. The gun was knocked from her hands and then there was an arm over her windpipe. It was strong but human, as evidenced by the grunts of pain when Olivia sank her teeth into her attacker's hand. His grip loosened and Olivia threw her elbow into his stomach. He let her go for half a second and then tackled her to the floor.

It was all instinctive then. Training. Reflexes. Liv went to drive her knee into him, but he blocked the move. He tried pinning her hands and she threw her head forward, hitting something hard and earning a grunt of pain from him. She got a second to breathe and her hand found the gun she'd dropped.

The shot was deafening. Her assailant cried out and suddenly his weight was gone from her. She heard footsteps, Peter's breathing. Then the lights were on and her attacker screamed again.

They were in another room dominated by computers. A row of desks that didn't match each other lined up side by side, computers on each one. Peter was standing near a light switch he couldn't have found with anything other than luck. There was a gash on his forehead and blood dripped down his face. Her attacker was on the ground with a hole in his left shoulder and a pair of night vision goggles he was trying desperately to get rid of. Peter assisted with that by hauling him to his feet, slamming him up against one of the desks and tearing the goggles from his face. "Liv! You okay?"

"Good. I'm good," she replied, getting to her feet and clutching the gun tighter. "Where's your weapon?" Peter was holding a blonde haired man in his mid-fifties. He could be considered attractive in a certain light, but he'd aged prematurely. The fact that he'd tried to kill her didn't help.

"Lost it in the other room," Peter replied, twisting hard on the man's left arm so that his shoulder gushed blood. "Is it just you in here?"

"It _was_," the man said on a growl.

Liv crossed over the blood trail on the floor while Peter forced his captive to turn. The guy was muscular, but Liv held her gun on him, curtailing any escape ideas he may have had. Peter slammed his head against the desk. "You armed?" she asked.

"If I was armed, you'd have more than a cut on your forehead," their attacker replied, trying to look at Peter.

"Great to know." Peter pulled hard on the other man's shoulder, eliciting another shout of agony. Liv cuffed the man, then froze. She blinked hard, pressing the gun into her captive's spine. "You move and I promise that you will never move again." To Peter, "Look at this."

Peter had to crane his head to see what Liv was referring to. Their assailant was in jeans and t-shirt, leaving his forearms exposed. The one that wasn't bleeding had a tattoo. It was old and faded, but still visible enough. It looked like a bar code.

"He's Resistance," Peter said, barely believing his own words.

Something clicked in Liv's head. She moved to the side, making sure her gun was at the ready. His face was being held against the desk and there were more lines and scars, but that was to be expected after thirty years. It wasn't possible for him to be here, but his features hadn't changed all that much, and Liv had studied his photo less than twenty minutes ago.

"He's not just Resistance, Peter. This is Kyle Reese."


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the delay folks, took longer than usual to get this chapter up to par in my head. As some of you have already guessed, we're nearing an end here. Whether that means an end for Sarah remains to be seen. Cue evil laugh. Anyway, I'm thinking just a couple more chapters until this is wrapped up.

* * *

Olivia was lucky for a time. The drugs and exhaustion kept Sarah under while Lincoln called her into the hallway. He tried to be calm when he told her what was happening. Olivia attempted to emulate him, but cool professionalism was in short supply for her. This was too much. There couldn't be a threat from the outside, not on top of everything else. How was she supposed to tell Sarah that every fear she'd expressed about the transplant compromising their safety had been justified?

Sleep kept Sarah peacefully ignorant as Olivia got on her phone and Lincoln gave orders through his comm. In minutes he was joined by two more Fringe agents. The men were calm but vague as they explained to Felicia and a group of other doctors why they couldn't go home yet.

Olivia got calls out to Astrid and John, discussed old emergency plans. Then she found out what her best friend and her alternate were doing, leading the charge that could very well get them killed. Her concern for Peter was a given, but Olivia was surprised at the depth of worry she felt for the redhead that was with him. She seriously contemplated joining them, it was only Sarah and Savannah that held her back. She couldn't leave her lover like this, especially when she didn't know how big the threat was, who or what might be coming for them. And if the worst case scenario played itself out, Peter and Liv's son could end up an orphan. She couldn't do that to Savannah, not if there was any chance of avoidance.

She'd just heard that Peter and Liv had apprehended a suspect, nothing more than that, when Sarah woke up. At that point she had no choice but to channel calm, even as her thoughts tangled in on themselves and her head pounded. She had to fake it, feign control. That thought brought the memory of a conversation with Liv from a few days earlier. Worry tightened her stomach as she held Sarah's hand, trying to quell the storm she saw in the other woman's eyes.

"They found the man who accessed the records. And he _is _a man. That means something."

"It means nothing, and you know that. Could be Kaliba, could be a hundred other people like Kaliba."

"Or it could be a college kid in his dorm room with too much time on his hands. We have no reason to link this to Skynet."

"And we have no reason not to. I told you this was too risky."

Olivia bit her lip to keep from snapping, asking what Sarah expected her to do when there'd been a possible means of salvation. She tried not to think about Sarah being right, about the transplant somehow dooming everything they'd worked to preserve. "No one's hurt, all right? Nothing's happened here that we can't deal with."

"Not yet, you mean."

Sarah tried to get up. Restraining her was disturbingly easy. Olivia held the brunette in her arms, trying vainly to ease the shaking that came with the movement. "Shhh. Hey. Listen to me. _Listen _to me. We're on this. The system was being monitored. We're going to handle this."

"John. Savannah."

Sarah's voice was very close to breaking and Olivia fought the urge to hold her tighter. So fucking thin, the hospital gown was like a tent around her body. "Astrid and James are moving them to the safehouse in New York, like we always said." She'd given John a minimum of information. He'd been worried and angry when she told him to sit and wait, but he hadn't argued, not after she brought up Savannah. "Nina's sent a security detail from Massive Dynamic with some of the prototype weapons William Bell was working on when he died. You've seen how powerful those are."

"And what makes you think Skynet hasn't built better machines?"

"Savannah and John are in another universe," Olivia replied, avoiding the question. "They're as far away from whatever's happening here as they can be. They'll be safe." She'd touched a trigger and she knew it. When Sarah tried to pull back Olivia allowed it for just a moment. Then she used her palms to cup both sides of Sarah's face, forcing eye contact and trying to ignore the prominence of Sarah's cheekbones. "Listen to me. They _will _be safe. I'm not going to let anything happen to them. Nothing. Did you mean what you said about my never having failed you?"

"Yes."

The tone remained rough, but there'd been no hesitance in Sarah's response. Olivia's breathing came slightly easier. "So trust that I won't fail you now. I won't. Not with them, I promise you." Olivia held Sarah's eyes until she saw a change in the other woman, a barely noticeable lessening of tension. Olivia kissed her, the exchange of germs hardly her main concern now. Sarah's lips were dry and chapped, and the lump in Olivia's throat almost choked her as she swallowed past it.

"Go," Sarah said on a sigh after they broke apart. "Find out what the hell is going on."

"Okay," Olivia replied, fighting past her reluctance to leave Sarah's side. "You'll be okay here," she added.

"I'm not worried about me."

"I know. _I _ am. Just try to rest as much as you can." Sarah scoffed and Olivia leaned in close again, resting her forehead near the brunette's. "Please."

"Worried I'll make myself sick?"

"Don't," Olivia said sharply, her usual appreciation for Sarah's humor completely gone. "Just…just don't."

Expression softening, Sarah pushed a lock of hair behind Olivia's ear, thumb lingering on the lobe. Olivia shivered and Sarah's lips turned up minutely at the knowledge that even now, weak as she felt and bad as their situation may be, she still held power over the blonde's physical reactions. "You're right, I'll be fine. Now go. And keep me updated."

"I will." Left too long without information, Olivia had no doubt that Sarah would try fighting her way past Lincoln and his colleagues to get out of this building and find out who was threatening her family.

Lincoln was just clicking off his comm unit when Olivia met him in the hall. "Peter and Liv are at New York General."

"Are they hurt?"

"They're not, perp is. Took a slug to the shoulder, nothing serious," said Lincoln, pulling a set of keys from his pocket and handing them off. "You remember which car's mine?"

Stalling tactic. He knew that she knew, even if she hadn't seen much of the Fringe agent's vehicle over the past few months. She had strong suspicions that Lincoln's scarcity up to now was deliberate, an attempt at forcing Olivia and her doppelganger to take the final steps towards peace with each other. On a different night she would've called him on it, maybe thanked him for it. "What do we know?" she asked instead, not bothering to waste time talking about the car.

"We're still figuring out what we know."

Olivia's eyes narrowed. The words came easily enough, but Lincoln's face had gone too blank, too careful. "Lincoln?"

"Talk to Peter."

"I'm talking to you now."

"Talk to him instead," Lincoln insisted. "And don't scratch the paint on my car."

Another diversion tactic. Olivia opened her mouth to argue before deciding it was a waste of time. "Listen," she began, nodding towards the door to Sarah's room.

"Nothing happens to her, I swear."

Olivia nodded again, thanking him even though his evasions pissed her off. Lincoln's vehicle was parked in a garage down below and Olivia called Peter four times during her journey there. She got Liv's voicemail twice and then it was her phone that started ringing as she slid behind the wheel. "Peter?" she said, concern warring with anger as she waited for a response.

"I'm sorry," he replied instantly. "Docs just finished with us."

"Are you all right?"

"Fine. Cut, bump on the head."

"Are you with the suspect?"

"Liv is. She removed her comm unit while we spoke to him. Olivia…"

"What? What, Peter?" the blonde demanded, frustration winning out as she started the car. She wanted out of there now, but her hands were shaking. Olivia bit her lip and made herself wait. "What do we know about this guy? Is he alone, is he working for someone, what?"

A pause. "Technically, I suppose he's working for John."

Olivia blinked several times. The car's interior still looked the same and the words still made no sense. "John," she repeated.

"The man we found is Kyle Reese. This side's Kyle Reese. He's a hacker. His place is a showroom for the latest computer tech. He was searching hospital databases and Sarah…he knew the alias. Her alias in the system, the name Sarah and John registered under. The Sarah on this side, she'd used it before."

Olivia couldn't speak. Peter seemed to realize she was starved for answers and he was talking fast. She heard him, but struggled to make sense of the words.

"Olivia?"

"What are you saying?" she asked, trying to kickstart her brain into comprehending this. "That Kyle Reese is alive and he _accidentally _ran across John and Sarah?"

"I know it's insane, but we deal in insane, remember? He wasn't doing random searches of hospital databases. He was looking for medical information. Treatment notes that doctors might've kept in the hospital mainframe. Research, stuff that's not public yet."

"Research on what?" Olivia questioned, thinking she already knew. If Kyle was alive here, then why not Sarah? Why couldn't the woman on this side be suffering the same way Olivia's lover was back in that hospital room? She remembered her own late nights poring through Massive Dynamic's files, desperately seeking a cure that didn't exist. She remembered fighting against that reality, shutting herself and her laptop into the study until Sarah ordered her to bed.

"It's not Sarah," Peter said, apparently reading her mind. "He was looking for help, but not for her."

* * *

Kyle Reese was handcuffed to a bed in room 203 of New York General. Olivia knew this, but didn't head there when she reached the hospital. She needed directions from a nurse because Peter had been very careful to give Reese's location, but not the other.

Two minutes after arriving, Olivia saw the patient that Peter hadn't wanted her to. The man in the bed was thin and pale. His features were obscured by the ventilator covering his nose and mouth. There were tubes everywhere, more than Olivia cared to count. His light brown hair was longer than she was used to. It needed to be trimmed, Sarah would say that if she weren't trapped in her own hospital bed.

Olivia tried holding herself together, but it got harder as she moved closer. She had to grip the metal bar at the side of the bed because her knees were suddenly unreliable. Her free hand went to her mouth as she breathed deeply, attempting to suppress a sob.

She closed her eyes, hoping it would help. Moments later she heard footsteps in the hall, quick and purposeful. The sounds grew closer, but Olivia didn't move. Sometime in the last seven years she'd learned to recognize Peter Bishop's steps, so she didn't flinch when his hand covered hers on the bar, when his voice came from somewhere very near.

"It's not him. It's not him, Olivia. It's not him."

Olivia nodded, but he kept saying it. She didn't mind the repetition. Eventually her grip on the bar loosened and she was able to lower the hand covering her mouth. She managed to open her eyes again, but almost earned herself a bloody lip in the process. She'd bitten down too hard when she saw the man again.

Peter went quiet, taking his hand away but staying close. Olivia was glad of that. The man in the bed was older, in his thirties and his jaw was covered with more stubble than she'd ever seen on John, but it _was _John. Knowing he wasn't _their _John, that hardly mattered at the moment. "How did you know I'd come here first?" Olivia asked, fighting back thoughts of John needing a haircut and a shave, more nourishment pumped into whichever tube they were feeding him with.

"Because Sarah would have?"

There was a kind of shrug in his voice as if he wasn't sure of his answer, but he was right and they both knew it. Olivia kept her eyes on the older version of John, doing her best not to choke on what came next. "So she's dead then. Sarah."

Peter's breath came in a rough, audible hiss. "This side's version. Not yours."

"I know that." She'd been testing the weight of that statement, finding out if she could utter the words 'Sarah' and 'dead' in the same sentence. It wasn't impossible; it just made her chest seize up badly enough that she considered searching for another breathing tube.

"How did you know, that she was gone?"

Olivia made herself breathe. "If she was alive, she'd be here." Another forced inhalation. "Cancer? Ten years ago?"

"Yes." It was clear he hadn't wanted to answer.

Olivia shook her head, a horrible half-smile pulling at her lips. Finally she tore her eyes from the bed, using Peter's gaze to steady herself. "Seems like Reese has been telling you a lot."

"Enough, not a lot," Peter corrected. "And that's only because we know things about the timelines, the Resistance."

"Have you explained all that to him?"

"All that' being the fact that our knowledge is based on the history of another universe? No. But he knows something's up. He told us about Sarah because we guessed. His son was a different story. Didn't want medical treatment at this hospital. We couldn't figure out why until we got here. The nurses say he practically lives in this room."

Of course he did. Sarah would have. "So you haven't told him why their names were in the system."

"Wasn't my call to make."

"And if it was?"

Peter closed his eyes, ran a hand through his hair. "I think you should tell him. He wasn't trying to hurt us, Olivia. The agents who came in later said that his bedroom was basically a gun store, but he wasn't carrying anything. He hit me, but that was it," Peter stated, tracing the place on his forehead where the wound used to be. "He wasn't looking to kill Fringe agents."

Olivia bit at her already abused lip. "Him being Kyle Reese doesn't automatically make him trustworthy. Jesse Flores was a member of the Resistance. Look what happened there."

"I know Sarah's vulnerable right now and that you need to protect her, but this is the same guy who came back here in '84. To save this world's Sarah Connor."

"Which begs the question of where he's been all this time. I've seen the police files Over Here. Reese was supposed to be dead, just like on our side."

"So were Sarah and John back in '99."

"Yeah, and the minute they jumped through time they ended up all over TV. This John, this Sarah, we know they blew Cyberdyne. Their trail is incomplete, but it's there. Where was Reese during all that?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure you could find out."

"Which would require us to give out highly classified information to a man we know almost nothing about."

"We know enough, Olivia. At least I do."

"Meaning what?"

Peter paused before answering. "He looks at her the way you do. When he talks about his Sarah, the look is the same. I can't explain it any better than that right now, but you asked for my opinion, and I'm telling you I don't think he's a threat."

"And Liv?" Olivia asked, hating herself a bit for putting so much stock in the redhead's opinion.

"Liv agrees with me."

Olivia took another breath, casting a last look at this world's John Connor. "Fine. We'll brief him."

Nodding, Peter took out his phone and pressed a few buttons. He let the blonde precede him out of the room and into the elevator. They rode down in silence, and then Peter led her through a winding series of hallways. They stopped in front of room 203, Peter raising his eyebrows in question. Olivia held back a moment. The door was cracked open. She could see Reese sitting up in bed, right arm handcuffed to one of the metal bars. Her alternate wasn't visible, but Olivia could tell that Kyle and the redhead were having a conversation.

"She's dead," Reese was saying, voice filled with heat. "Sarah Connor is dead, so what the hell is this?"

Liv's voice was as calm as his was angry. "I understand how difficult this must be, but I'm hoping that a guy who knows about time travel and alternate timelines will have an easier time with this than most people. Yes, the Sarah you knew _is _dead, and I'm truly sorry about that."

Reese let out a disgusted chuckle.

Steeling herself, Olivia pushed the door open, Peter entering behind her. Reese's gaze shot to them, then back to the redhead standing in the middle of the room.

Liv nodded to Peter, sharing a brief look with her doppelganger before retrieving her tablet computer and moving closer to Reese, holding it up for his inspection. "I _am _sorry for your loss, I hope you'll come to understand that. But the first thing you'll have to understand is that there's more than one of everything."

Olivia moved further into the room so she was able to see Liv's computer screen. A collection of high resolution photos greeted her, images that must've come from Peter's phone. They were pictures from the Christmas party a few weeks ago. Sarah smiling tightly while Walter stood next to her. Sarah and Peter toasting the camera from behind the counter. Sarah and Olivia with their arms around each other, posed near the Christmas tree.

Reese looked at the pictures, looked at Olivia. His eyes were wide with confusion.

"There's more than one of everything," Olivia repeated.

* * *

It took a long time to get through the explanations. Peter spent much of it playing Walter's role, discussing the science of it all. Olivia could tell that Reese didn't much care. He listened, took it in, but his eyes kept drifting to the photos of Sarah. The blonde noticed that he paid special attention to the picture of herself and her lover. He paid_ attention_ though, eventually adding his own contributions. Olivia and the others listened to his story, prodding him to fill in the blanks when necessary. Olivia looked for holes in the tale. Nothing stood out. Massive Dynamic had a lie detector that measured brainwave fluctuations. If they plugged a terminator into it, they'd likely be able to tell when the thing started processing a different set of data. Olivia didn't need the machine to know Reese was telling the truth. He was an open book, wore his emotions on his sleeve.

The other one hadn't lied either, the Reese from her side. He'd spilled everything no matter how crazy it sounded.

Kind eyes, that was what Sarah told her once. Olivia believed her, but she didn't see kindness in this man's eyes, not now. Shock, pain, confusion, those were all there.

"Take the cuffs off," she said finally. Liv, who'd been standing next to her, complied without a word. Kyle rubbed at his freed wrist. It was trembling badly. "Can you give us a minute please?" Peter and the redhead shared a look, but did as she asked, leaving Olivia alone with Reese.

"You love her," Kyle said after the others were gone.

Olivia didn't react. Photo aside, they'd skirted around her relationship with Sarah during their exchange of information. It didn't need to be talked about much. Peter was right; she only had to look at Reese to see how much he'd loved his Sarah. Apparently the same could be said for her.

"Is John safe? _Her _John?"

"He's safe," Olivia confirmed, Sarah's voice in her head screaming that that wasn't possible.

"Can I see her?"

Olivia closed her eyes, forcing air to her lungs. "That's not my call."

"Why would you tell me this otherwise? You didn't have to, you could've locked me up straightaway. So why tell me all this if you won't let me see her?"

There was a note of possessiveness in Reese's tone, as if she were keeping him from something unfairly. There were a lot of other things too, things that kept Olivia from snapping at him.

Still.

Liv had left her tablet on a tray by the bed. Olivia took it, turning the screen facedown. "She's not _your _Sarah," Olivia reminded him, making an effort to keep her voice even.

"I know," he said, but his voice was quiet and his eyes had gone down. The shaking in his wrist had gotten worse, and he'd resorted to clenching the bed sheets. "Please," he added, meeting her gaze again.

And Olivia saw it. What Sarah described when they'd been drinking some night after a mission gone bad. They hadn't become a couple yet, they'd simply taken to sharing a room in Nina's penthouse a few nights a week. Olivia talked about John Scott, and Sarah talked about Reese and his kind eyes. Olivia never expected the chance to confirm Sarah's observation, but here it was. "It's not my call," she repeated, though her tone was different this time. "I'll be back."

She left him, putting Peter and Liv back on guard duty, though she thought it unnecessary. She retreated from the door and pulled out her phone. Lincoln answered. They spoke briefly, and then his voice was replaced by another.

"What happened to keeping me updated?"

Sarah was clearly pissed. It was also obvious that she'd been sleeping. All that was going on and the disease still managed to drag her under again. "I wanted all the answers first."

"And?"

Olivia paused before answering. "Kyle Reese is in a hospital room a few doors away from me. It was Kyle who accessed the records."

The silence was deafening. "How?" Sarah asked finally.

Her voice sounded different. Olivia had only heard it that way a handful of times. "That's a long story. He wants to be the one to tell it. He's asking to see you. We told him the truth. _I _did," Olivia corrected because it'd been her choice. "I think it's safe. I don't think he'd hurt you."

"Reese would never hurt me."

So much certainty in that statement. Olivia wondered how alert Sarah was, how well the drugs were working. She wasn't absolutely sure in that moment that Sarah realized they were talking about two different men. "What do you want me to do?" Olivia asked, already knowing the answer.

"Bring him." A pause. When Sarah spoke again her voice had changed. "Does John know?"

"No. Lincoln got word to James and Astrid that things were okay, that we'd apprehended a suspect. He's not going out of his mind, but he doesn't know. You want me to call him?"

"No. I will. Soon."

'Soon' meaning after she'd talked to Kyle herself. Olivia had known that answer too before posing the question. "All right, I'll see you soon." A moment's hesitation as she considered all Reese had told her. She thought about revealing some of that now, for Sarah's sake, but it wasn't her place. "I love you," she said instead before ending the call.

* * *

Sarah was still being guarded when they arrived. Olivia sent the Fringe agents away and opened the door without entering. Sarah was sleeping again. The blonde tried not to think of what that meant as she stepped back from the doorframe, giving Reese a better view. His mouth opened slightly as he took in air. A pained half-smile tugged at his lips. The shoulder that'd recently had a bullet pulled from it was already healing, making Olivia wonder why cancer was still a problem even on this side. The wound was gone, bur Reese's arm was still unnaturally rigid.

"She looks the same. She looks like she did when I saw her last."

Reese's voice was far away. He didn't seem happy about what he'd just said. Olivia didn't correct him, remind him that he'd never seen this Sarah before. She was sure he understood. the terminology just got incredibly complicated when time travel and alternate universes were added to the equation. "Don't hurt her," she said instead. She wasn't talking about physical safety. If she'd felt that was any sort of issue, they wouldn't be having this conversation. Olivia wasn't sure what she was warning him against, but Reese nodded as if he understood. Then he looked at her with a kind of pleading apprehension, and Olivia led him inside.

Sarah lay on her side, one hand draped over her stomach. Olivia perched herself on the edge of the bed, taking that hand in hers and rubbing gently. Reese hung back a few steps behind her.

Sarah came awake slowly. She saw Olivia and smiled, and then she registered the other visitor. She thought it was John at first, until the man stepped closer. Then Sarah thought that she was dead because there was no other reason for Kyle to be here. Something must've gone wrong. She'd been even sicker than they'd realized. But if that was the case, then Olivia shouldn't be holding her hand, stroking the hair from her eyes. Reese and Olivia, her two great loves who had no business occupying the same space.

Then she remembered. The sleep lifted enough for her to make some sense of what was happening here. She sat up faster than she should've. Kyle and Olivia protested simultaneously.

It was his voice. Kyle's. And Olivia reacted to it, which minimized the chance of this being a prolonged and detailed hallucination. Sarah felt both a new sense of weakness and a sudden rush of invigoration as she looked at him.

No one spoke. Sarah was holding Olivia's hand while looking at Reese. The blonde fought an internal battle over what to do now. Was she supposed to introduce them? There wasn't much of a protocol here "Are you going to be okay?" she asked. Sarah murmured something in the affirmative without taking her eyes from Reese. "Okay," Olivia replied, trying to keep her voice neutral. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

Olivia stood. Something in her tone broke through Sarah's shock. "Hey," she said in a voice that didn't sound like hers, squeezing Olivia's wrist before the blonde could retreat. "Always."

"Sorry?"

"I always need you."

Reese backed off again. He was staring at the far wall, his body tense and awkward. Olivia had told him about their relationship, wouldn't have woken her the way she had otherwise. That deduction didn't make things any easier. Still Olivia smiled before leaving, and when Reese approached the bed there was a familiar warmth in his eyes. His gaze darted towards the chair until Sarah patted the spot her lover had vacated. He sat down heavily, left hand braced against his kneecap.

For long moments all Sarah could do was look at him. Then, before she could think better of it, "You never got older." Kyle frowned, drawing more attention to the age lines that cut into his face. "You died. When I thought of you afterwards, I could never picture what you'd look like if you hadn't." She was saying it all wrong. This wasn't her Reese, and she knew that. Sarah couldn't think clearly enough right then to remedy the problem.

Reese offered a weak, hesitant smile. "You must be disappointed."

"No," Sarah replied instantly, thinking of a conversation by a motel window that might as well have taken place in another lifetime. Had this man experienced those same moments? Sarah opened her mouth to ask, then looked down and realized that Reese was shaking. His left hand, and the knee it was clamped to.

Reese followed her eye line and the smile disappeared. "The fight with the 800. Damaged my left side. Stress makes it worse."

"Damaged," Sarah repeated, more to herself than him. "They put you in a body bag," she said, voice breaking despite her best efforts. "On this side. I watched them put you in a body bag."

"So did she. My Sarah. John had sent others back, I didn't know. The paramedics were Resistance. Bishop said that my universe has better tech than yours. They got me breathing again, but they couldn't fix this," he added, nodding down at his leg. "They saved me, made it look like they hadn't. No one cared enough to pay that much attention anyway."

Sarah thought of the unmarked grave holding her son's father, how he'd been buried without his name as if he'd never existed.

"They helped us get out of the hospital, and then they were gone. John sent them here with a secondary mission, I never found out what. Never saw them again."

Sarah struggled to process that. Kyle's death had always seemed like such an inevitability. Much like her own. "But you had a life. With her."

Kyle nodded, eyes bright. "I was hurt too badly for real physical combat," he said with disgust. "It used to be worse than this, I could barely walk for awhile, the arm might as well have been cut off. You…_she _was learning how to assemble rifles. and I couldn't even hold one anymore. I couldn't protect her. Or John."

The fingers covering his knee were white. Sarah took his hand without thinking. It shook, but he didn't protest when she ran her thumb along his knuckles. His hand turned in hers and Sarah touched the pads of his fingertips. They were hard, callused, They felt incredibly good. For a moment Sarah was back in that motel again. Her Reese's hands were rough too, but they'd moved so gently over her body. Sarah looked up and had to shake herself again, remember that the man from that room was still gone. "She was around to destroy Cyberdyne," Sarah replied. Olivia had learned that much from Sarah Connor's records on this side, shared the information years ago. "You must've done something right."

Kyle shook his head, a pained smile gracing his lips. "_She _did. She's the one who went out and took the risks. I had to learn computers," he said, a dark note entering his voice. "It was the only way I could help, hacking databases, killing security systems from the inside."

Clear as if he'd said it the night before, Sarah heard Reese saying that he didn't know tech stuff. His impatience had been so clear. Sarah could only imagine how much worse it would've been if he'd lived long enough to have to learn it. "You became a hacker with this to deal with?" she asked, unconsciously squeezing his hand and smiling a bit as the pressure was returned.

"I did what I had to. I'd just had another surgery for the leg when that second machine came back. When they broke into Cyberdyne, the best I could do was sit in front of a computer and handle the security.."

He'd been operating behind the scenes. That was why he'd been off the radar for so long.

"I was right," he said suddenly, tone changing as he studied her. "My…my Sarah used to say that she couldn't have done it without me, survived the way we did. But you did it. She…she was so strong and she never knew. No matter what I said, she always underestimated herself. She didn't need me."

Sarah was the one to shake her head this time. She ached for this man the way she'd ached for her Reese thirty years before when he described the nightmare of his life. "She needed you. She never stopped."

"You can't know that."

"Yes, I can. Because I did. Need you." She'd needed him when he was alive, needed him even more when he wasn't. A tear threatened to escape her eye, but she was too scared to blink it away, afraid he'd be gone as soon as she looked back,

Reese's thumb grazed her cheek, taking away the moisture. Then his hand was cupping her face. Olivia had been the only one in years to touch her that way. If anyone else were sitting in front of her, Sarah would've shoved them back. Instead she leaned into the contact, shuddering at the feel of his warmth against her skin. She'd lived this moment before, created an image of Reese to keep herself going. He'd kissed her then, she'd felt his lips as if they were really there. He leaned in now. For one endless moment he was going to kiss her and she was going to let him.

Sarah hated that she wasn't sure which of them stopped it. She didn't know if Kyle halted at the last moment, catching an area to the left of her mouth, or if she was the one who pulled back. "Reese," she said in a ragged whisper.

It was like she'd shocked him. His body went rigid and his breath became harsh. Then he sat up straighter, creating more distance between them. His hand left her face. "I'm sorry."

He sounded like her Reese had after confessing that he loved her. So much self-reproach as he'd tried to get away from her. Sarah was almost sure she'd gotten it straight in that moment, realized once and for all that they were different men. It was the drugs. The drugs and the sickness and the shock of seeing him here, all of it was making rational thinking impossible. "Don't be." Their fingers were still interlaced. He was trying to break the contact. Sarah's grip was weak but when she squeezed his hand he stopped trying to escape.

"I haven't…no one's called me Reese in a long time. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I missed saying it."

"She was the only one who called me that anymore. The only one here that knew who I really was. And then…"

"And then this happened," Sarah guessed, letting her eyes roam across the hospital room. "Cancer? Ten years ago?" Reese's jaw dropped slightly and Sarah rushed to explain. "Cameron said that what happened to your Sarah should've happened to me. _Would _have if she hadn't taken us through time."

"Cameron? The machine had a name?"

Sarah did a mental five count. Given recent events it didn't exactly surprise her that Olivia had neglected that detail during her recounting. She was hit by an irrational wave of shame. All the time she'd been with Cameron, Reese was in the back of her mind, accusing her of betrayal. This _wasn't _her Kyle, and Olivia wouldn't have told him the nature of her relationship with the machine, and still Sarah felt ill for reasons that had nothing to do with the drugs coursing through her system. She didn't bother asking if Cameron had been part of this world's future.

"Doesn't matter," she declared, ignoring the feeling that Reese could see right through her. "I'm sorry you lost her."

"I'm sorry you lost him. He wanted to be there for you. If we were anything alike, that was all he wanted."

"I know. I've been telling John that since before he was born." It occurred to her then that they hadn't talked about John, not really. Further proof of how off-balance she was, because John was usually at the forefront of her mind. "He's thirty now," Sarah said, more to herself than to him. "Your John." Sarah tried not to think about how she'd never see her own son's thirtieth birthday. Reese made that struggle much simpler. Suddenly his face was stone. He'd gone rigid again, but not in the way he had after she said his name. He'd stopped looking at her, was trying to pull away. And then Sarah's heart dropped because she recognized the grief on his face. It was the grief, the fear, that she'd been trying to outrun from the moment she learned of her pregnancy. "Where's your son, Kyle?"

Sarah had to hold tighter to keep him from walking away. He wouldn't make eye contact. He was answering for her and only for her.

"John wasn't…neither of us were okay after his mother died. I wasn't supposed to see this world. I came here for her. I shouldn't be here when she isn't. I never planned to have a child, not in the world I came from. If I was ever a decent father it was because of her. Neither of us knew what we were doing but we helped each other, like we did after the first 800 went down. And then she wasn't there anymore. I was supposed to save her and I couldn't. And John left. And then a couple months ago he got drunk, crashed his motorcycle."

Oh God. Olivia telling her John was hurt. He'd looked so battered, so pale. It hadn't been months since the accident, not for her. Here it would've taken place sometime in December.

If not for Cameron's intervention, Sarah would've died in December of 2005.

"He's not _there _anymore, Sarah. He's in a coma and I can't…I found you in that database because I was trying to find a way to bring him back. I lost her and now he's gone too and I can't…"

Reese was the one crying now. Sarah took him in her arms and did the same. She cried for both their sons, both their lives.

She'd got it through her head that this man wasn't John's father. She thought that he finally understood that too. Or that he would, were he not drowning in grief so strong that it threatened to pull Sarah under with him.

"I'm sorry," he kept saying into her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I couldn't protect him. I couldn't protect our son. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

* * *

Olivia stood up from the chair by Sarah's hospital bed when John entered the room. The boy looked shocked and dazed and Olivia hugged him, knowing it would only heighten the confusion. She couldn't fight the impulse though. Having spent most of the last few days in this room, she hadn't noticed the deterioration in John's appearance. His face was pale and drawn, his chin covered with stubble. He reminded her of another John Connor in a different hospital room and Olivia did everything she could to banish that comparison from her mind.

Olivia's arms around him brought a kind of awkward gratitude, and John was both relieved and disappointed when the embrace ended quickly. His mom looked unnaturally small and weak in that hospital bed but John crossed to her almost without thinking, still hoping she could make sense of all this when he couldn't. "Where," he started, clearing his throat because he barely recognized his own voice. "Where is he?"

"With Felicia," Sarah replied, holding her hand out. John took it but remained standing, nervous tension rolling off him in waves. "The wound in his shoulder is healed but she's giving him some injections to make sure there's no chance of infection.

John nodded stiffly, eyes darting between the two women. "You're going to have to tell Savannah. About this place. She knows something's up, that there's a bigger reason you won't let her visit."

"She's not supposed to know about the universes," said Sarah, without much conviction.

"Was she supposed to know about time travel or machines or her mother being one of them? She's lived with those things and she's not a child anymore. There's no reason to keep the secret at this point."

Stress made John's declarations sharper than he probably meant them to be. Sarah squeezed his fingers and attempted to keep her own voice level. "Maybe you should talk to her." The statement was directed at Olivia.

"I think it'd be better coming from you," John said before the blonde could answer.

Sarah closed her eyes. John wanted her to talk to Savannah when she got home. He refused to accept that she wouldn't be going anywhere. She watched him shift on his feet, the knee that'd been hurt in the accident shaking a little as he put weight on it. That inevitably brought thoughts of Kyle, and suddenly Sarah was remembering another instance of John's stubbornness, when he'd convinced her to try the Cortexiphan treatments despite the risk. He'd asked if an injured Kyle Reese would've been worse than a dead one. Sarah wondered if he'd sensed the other man's presence on some subconscious level, then mentally shook herself because those kinds of thoughts were best left to Walter.

"Are you sure he wants to see me?"

"I'm sure," Sarah replied, noting that his hand was sweating in hers. "That doesn't mean you have to see him."

"Yes, I do."

There was no time for further argument. Reese arrived, halting in the doorframe as he studied John.

John let go of Sarah's hand and instantly wished he hadn't. He felt weak. There wasn't enough air in the room. He wasn't supposed to have this moment. If there was a downside to preventing the war, it lay in the fact that he'd lost the chance to meet the soldier who would be his father.

John moved forward slowly, Kyle following his lead. Olivia took Sarah's hand, the one John had let go of. She felt like an intruder, but couldn't look away. The resemblance Sarah always talked about was definitely there, made even more obvious now that they were in the same room together. Olivia swallowed a lump in her throat that threatened to cut off her airway.

John met Kyle in the middle of the room. The older man was smiling at him with a mixture of joy and pain that went beyond description. John moved his lips but no sound came. He thought about raising his hand but couldn't do it. Every part of him felt heavy, weighted down.

"My God." Reese broke the silence with barely more than a whisper. "You look so much like him."

John swayed under a rush of emotions as Kyle cupped his face in both hands. He would've shrugged away in almost any other circumstance, but Kyle was looking at him in a way that John didn't think possible. Reese looked at him the same way his mother did, with an unconditional devotion John had failed to take proper notice of until after he learned of her illness.

After he realized he wouldn't be seeing that look much longer.

The closest he'd ever gotten to that look from someone other than Sarah came when Charley was alive, but even that wasn't the same. John drank in the expression of pure, undivided loyalty, noting the tears at the corners of Reese's eyes. He felt like a cheat, a fraud. Those tears, that look, they weren't for him.

It didn't matter. When Kyle pulled him close, crushing John against his body, he lost himself in the moment, forgetting to care that it wasn't truly his.

* * *

Felicia found a conference room that wasn't being used, giving them a place to talk privately. They sat next to each other at a long table. The other chairs that usually surrounded it were pushed off against the far wall.

They were finishing a long conversation about Derek. In this world he'd never been sent back, Kyle hadn't seen his brother in thirty years He seemed to find it comforting that John had known a version of the elder Reese.

"He was a good man," John stated. "He wanted to do the right thing, save everyone." Kyle had provided information about Derek, their childhoods in this universe. John absorbed every word greedily. His time with his uncle had been too short, their relationship too complicated. There was so much they'd never talked about, so much John wanted to know. He had to keep reminding himself that the stories Kyle was telling didn't necessarily pertain to _his _family. It stung every time, remembering who he was talking to, but John couldn't _stop _talking and Kyle was doing nothing to persuade him.

"But he didn't," Kyle replied, "Save everyone." Sadness for a different version of his brother turned into something else as he studied John. "You did though."

John shook his head. "The others did, mostly Mom and Olivia. I didn't do much."

"That's not how your mother tells it."

"She exaggerates."

Kyle seemed unconvinced, but still let the subject go. "Do you have anyone? Your world survived, do you have anyone to share it with?"

Cameron. The first image he hit on was Cameron in that picture taken at Kacy's barbecue, the photo that had caused so much turmoil. "There was a girl once. Riley. Did…did your John have anyone?"

"He was seeing someone for awhile. Kate-something. I never met her. He was afraid to bring her into this life, and I guess she ended it. What happened to Riley?"

John lowered his head, resting his arms on the table. 'I happened to Riley. This life happened to Riley." He didn't elaborate, but the way Kyle spoke his next words told John he didn't need to.

"I'm sorry."

John wanted to apologize himself. For being here now when Kyle's son wasn't. Instead he thought of the lighthouse. The last time he'd really talked about Riley was at the lighthouse, on Charley's boat. Charley was dead now too. Like Riley. Like his real father. John made himself look up and almost wished he hadn't. There was that look again. That love that didn't belong to him. It was the look that got him talking, before he had time to think better of it. "All the people you've lost, does it ever seem like too much?"

"Every day."

So much sympathy there, so much understanding. The kind John had only ever gotten from his mother. "Can I ask you about…about your Sarah?"

Kyle's eyes slammed shut for a moment and he sat straighter in his chair, but he still nodded. "You can ask me anything you want, John."

John took a breath, steeling himself because no part of him actually wanted the answer to this question. "After she died, did it ever get any easier? Did you ever make peace with it?"

"It got easier," Kyle replied, but he took too long to say it and there wasn't much conviction behind the words.

John pressed the pads of his fingers against the table, his fears confirmed. "I was away from her for three years," he said. The older version of himself hadn't been. Apparently Kyle's hacking skills had shut down security long enough for Sarah to avoid a bullet and an arrest. "I was away from her and I didn't believe her, thought she was insane just like everyone else. And after we stopped Judgment Day I was away from her again, but I chose it that time. Now…" John swallowed hard, willing his shoulders to stop shaking. He hadn't talked of this with anyone; his tears so far had been only his. And this man, this stranger who wasn'ta stranger, John felt himself breaking in front of him. "There's not enough time, you know? She's too young and this, this shouldn't be the thing that takes her away. I thought with the Cortexiphan, I thought I could save her. With everyone else who's gone I needed so badly to save _her_."

John was sobbing by then. Through the blur of his tears, he saw Kyle move closer, felt the older man's hands on his shoulders. Then he was clinging to the ex-soldier and Kyle's voice was in his ear, telling him it would be okay.

Calling him son.

John didn't have the ability or the desire to correct him.

* * *

For once Sarah was alone in her hospital room. She'd talked with Reese on and off for hours, whenever her body allowed it. Olivia had gone to update James on the situation. She hadn't seen John in a long time and was starting to feel the familiar prickles of worry when he walked through the door.

The limp left over from the accident was more noticeable than usual as he crossed to her bedside, dropping heavily into the chair there. He offered a wan smile that Sarah did her best to return. Seeing John was always good. Having him see her this way, not so much. She brushed her hand over his, found it cold. Her smile disappeared. "You're freezing."

John shrugged. "It's winter." He withstood his mother's stare for all of two seconds before caving. "I went to General."

Sarah's empty stomach rolled unpleasantly. "John."

"I took a chance, I know. I was careful, no one saw me."

"It's not about the risk, John."

"I had to see him, Mom. Are you telling me you wouldn't have?"

Horrifying as the image was, Sarah wouldn't have stayed away from the other John either. She said nothing.

"I had to see him," John repeated.

"I know. I just wish you didn't."

John inhaled shakily. Peter's words echoed in his head, the ones offered a week after the accident. About how devastated his mother would be if she lost him. Then he thought of Kyle, the constant pain in the older man's eyes even while he smiled at John. "Was he like that, my dad? Were they…did they act the same?"

"Yeah. He was. They were both brave, kind, both went through too much. The man we met today loves his son the same way your father would've loved you."

John nodded, swallowing audibly. "Did you think about it a lot? What it would've been like if he lived?"

"I did. Every day. For a long time."

John nodded again, voice lowering significantly on his next words. "What if he didn't have to die?"

"Don't, John."

"No the…the future me from this world sent others back so Kyle could live. What if I'd done the same?"

"Listen to me. _You _are not that man, it wasn't in your control. They're more advanced here, you know that. I saw your father, John. What our side had at the time, even with what we have now…" Sarah trailed off, losing herself in images of Reese as she'd seen him last. "There was nothing to be done for him."

"You can't be sure of that. You can't know."

"John."

A muscle jumped in his jaw as he looked at her. Then he left the chair, seating himself at the edge of the bed instead. Sarah pulled him into her arms, wishing she had the strength to hold tighter. She stroked his hair and kissed his cheek, trying to memorize the feel of him.

Her bed faced the door and as she shifted slightly, Sarah noticed Reese standing near the doorframe. Meeting his eyes over John's shoulder, she half-expected him to join them. He didn't though. His features turned to steel before her eyes, then he was gone.

* * *

Reese stalked the hallways for several minutes before finding Peter a few corridors away from Sarah's hospital room. "Give her my son's marrow," he said without preamble.

"Excuse me?"

"You and your father. Give Sarah his marrow, do the procedure again. Give my John the Cortexiphan, whatever you call the stuff. You said that if both of them had gotten it in the first place, it probably would've worked. She wouldn't be dying. So give the drug to my son now. Save her."


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: **As usual I've underestimated the amount of pages in my own chapters. So I'm going to quit guesstimating the number of updates left and simply reiterate that we're nearing an end here.

* * *

Reese's demand seemed to echo in the corridor. Peter ran a rough hand through his hair, sparing half a second to look in the direction of Sarah's hospital room. "That's not possible."

"You did it a few days ago. Do it again."

"Yes, we did it a few days ago. And because of that, Sarah's immune system is barely there. Even if she agreed to this, which she won't-"

"He's my son, not hers. Her John won't be taking the risk."

"She's not strong enough," Peter continued, talking over Reese. "She can't take another transplant, not this soon."

"So wait. Build her system up again, then do it."

Peter made an effort to get the next words out. "It took time when we did it before. Months. She doesn't have that. She's not strong enough and we don't have time to make her that way."

Reese shook his head. "You don't know anything. You don't know her like I do."

Peter didn't point out the flaw in the other man's thinking. "Listen to me-"

"No _you _listen!" Reese moved faster than he should've been able, taking hold of Peter's shirt and shoving him hard against the wall. "Those doctors thirty years ago, they saved me after the metal nearly tore me in half. _Thirty years ago_. If they can do that, you can do this. You _will _do this. I'm not going to watch her die again, do you understand me?"

Reese had moved an arm close to Peter's throat. He wasn't pressing, but his eyes flashed dangerously. Peter took the deepest breath he could and forced a calm that wasn't there. "I care about her too. You've seen the pictures. Not like you do, I know, but I do care. Now by all means, knock my teeth out if it'll make you feel better, but it won't change anything for her."

Reese stared for long moments. The tension never left his body, but he did step away from Peter, doing an unsteady about-face. His left hand was shaking as he slammed it into the opposite wall. Leaning forward until his forehead was against white paint, he braced himself against the wall. Several seconds passed before he was able to utter anything more than whispered curses. "This isn't right," he said finally. "None of this. I was supposed to die before the war ever started. She wasn't supposed to finish it and then leave me here."

There was nothing for Peter to say. He lowered his head and straightened his shirt, only looking up when the sound of footsteps hit his ears. His father was approaching with Liv trailing a few steps behind. They had to move a little closer before Peter realized that Walter's fly was open.

"Has there been any change?" the older man asked, zipping up his pants and shifting his gaze between Peter and Reese as the latter turned to face him.

"Found him locked in an out of order toilet three floors down," Liv said before Peter could answer.

"I was searching for an answer," Walter explained. "A way to fix this. In a moment of desperation I chose to look down the spiritual path."

"Come again?" said Peter, eyebrows going towards his hairline.

"I went in search of the hospital chapel and accidentally locked myself in the crapper instead."

It was Peter's turn to swear under his breath. "Wonderful. And that just puts the cap on this fantastic night."

Reese scowled in disgust. "You people in charge of her life. No wonder she's dying."

Liv stared between Reese and Peter, expecting the younger Bishop to respond. He didn't. Walter lowered his head with a look of shame and Reese continued to stare daggers at Peter. "_Has _there been any change?" she asked, repeating Walter's initial question. "What's going on here?"

Peter held Reese's gaze another half second before explaining what the other man wanted.

"It's an incredibly noble idea," he finished, "but there's no way to pull it off."

"What if there is?" Liv said slowly. "If my pregnancy hadn't been accelerated, Henry and I wouldn't have made it," she continued, ignoring Reese's frown of confusion and Peter's grimace. "They delivered the baby before the virus had time to take hold."

"Yes, but we're well past that point with Sarah's cancer," Peter countered. "We were past that point five months ago."

"Before the transplant, when she had the chemo," said Liv as if Peter hadn't spoken. "Felicia gave her one massive dose, right? She couldn't have done that on your side, could she? It would've had to be more spread out."

"Yes, exactly," said Walter. "This side's technology gives us ways of making larger doses more tolerable."

"So what if you did that with the Cortexiphan?" Liv pressed. "You don't have time to give her twenty more doses, I didn't have time to carry Henry to term. But we're both still here."

"Yes, yes you are." There was a glint in Walter's eyes that was familiar to everyone but Reese. Then he frowned, shaking his head in frustration. "But the doctors on this side have learned how to administer the chemotherapy safely, learned what amounts are tolerable. This form of Cortexiphan is still in the early stages of development. I don't know yet how to adjust the drug's dosages so that the patient's body won't be overwhelmed."

"Walter," Liv replied. "You have an IQ of 156. You built a device that allows for movement between universes. Do you really think that you can't figure this out?"

A pause. "No. I mean yes, yes. I suppose I can. And there should be some residual Cortexiphan left in Sarah's system, so a second transplant shouldn't require as much as the first. But…" Walter's eyes darted over to Reese's. "The long term effects of the drug are still unknown, and I've never tested it on someone already suffering…cognitive impairment."

"Impairment," Reese repeated in a hollow sort of voice. "Thanks for not saying 'vegetable.' That's what the other doctors keep telling me. That my boy's a vegetable."

Walter swallowed hard. "You'd be putting him at risk. He wouldn't require as much of the drug as Sarah, but there's still a chance that giving it to him could make things worse."

Reese's lips turned in a horrible half-smile. "If you'd seen him, if you'd sat with him the last few months, you'd know there isn't much chance of things getting worse."

That declaration was followed by a long, heavy silence. Peter flashed on images of his father at his bedside, then he thought of his son. How Henry shouldn't have been conceived, then shouldn't have survived. Slamming his eyes shut, Peter forced himself back to the present. Back to Sarah, with John and Olivia hovering around her waiting for her to die. "We're not the ones who should be having this conversation," he said finally.

* * *

The room was too crowded. Her lover and her son flanked either side of her bed. The man who was so much like her son's father stood a few steps away. Both Bishops were there, along with Liv. Her last visitor didn't need to be present, and a few days ago Sarah would've thrown the redhead out. Instead she'd waited for the explanations to finish, giving everyone equal treatment. "Reese and I need to talk. Alone."

"Mom…"

John's gaze darted between her and Kyle. Like his attention, his face was torn. Sarah knew what he wanted to say. To both of them. Those sentiments would conflict with each other, and she couldn't let him talk to her, plead as he had before. "Give us a minute, John."

John ducked his head as he backed away. He made to follow Liv and the Bishops out the door, but halted when Kyle brought a hand to his shoulder.

"It'll be okay," Reese stated.

John blinked. A hand went up to cover the one Kyle had on his shoulder. He looked like he still couldn't believe the other man was real, real enough to touch. Kyle squeezed his shoulder and John nodded reluctantly, shooting his mother one last glance before leaving.

Olivia was the last to go and Sarah wasn't complaining. She used the extra seconds to initiate a silent conversation. Olivia had to know, had to understand why this couldn't happen. But the blonde was making an effort to blank her expression and all Sarah could do was hope like hell that she wouldn't have to explain the obvious once she'd finished with Kyle.

He didn't take the chair near her bed, didn't perch himself on the empty space there either. His bad knee was twitching, but Sarah couldn't quite ask him to sit down. "You said you'd never lie to me. Did you have to lie to him?" Of course Kyle had no idea what she was talking about. He couldn't be expected to have knowledge of her hallucinations. "I can't ask you to do this. You know I can't."

"I know. You're not asking."

"_You _can't do this. You don't know what Cortexiphan does. You give that garbage to your son, you don't know what could happen."

"No, I don't. Maybe something in that stuff will wake him up."

"_Reese._"

"It could save your life, that much I know." Kyle moved a few steps closer. "That boy who just walked out of here? He's strong, but he's not ready to lose you, not yet."

"Reese…" She needed a better rebuttal, but speaking had become difficult. He wasn't playing fair, he had to know that. "I can't do this. I can't risk my son, and I'm not letting you risk yours. I don't know how you can think of doing it yourself."

Now Reese did sink down on the edge of her bed. His knee trembled minutely. "I'm doing it for both our sons, Sarah."

Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but Reese touched a finger to her lips. It was there and gone in barely a second. Sarah couldn't decide whether she was relieved or heartbroken by the briefness of the contact.

"Your son can't lose you yet, and mine..." He trailed off. Sarah squeezed his hand on instinct. It was shaking horribly, but Kyle's voice was relatively steady when he continued. "I'm being selfish with my son. He wouldn't want to live the way he is. But I keep hoping he'll come out of it. That'll either happen or it won't. If it doesn't, then I'll have to let him go. I'll have to do what he'd want instead of what I need. And if that happens, if I make that choice, it won't be John Connor who dies. It'll be a man with a fake name, just like all the other fake names of all the people he's been. His life won't mean anything to anyone, at least not now. I don't want that. I don't want my son's life to have counted for nothing.

"And what if he does come out of it? No matter what he's like afterwards, I'll have to look at him and explain all this. That there was another version of his mother, and another boy who lost her. Who has to hurt the same way he did for the last ten years. That she might've lived if I'd made a different call. I know what he'd do if he could. The same thing your John wanted to do. I have to believe that some part of my son will still be there if he wakes up. And if that's true, I won't be able to face him if I don't take this shot."

"So what happens if he wakes up and he's a wreck because of the drug, what then?" It was hard to get the words out, hard to look at him and see what he was willing to do for her and know how little she could offer him in return.

"He'll still be my son. I'll do everything I can for him. Nothing changes that."

"I'd die for John Connor." The words came whisper-soft. Sarah hadn't planned them.

Reese nodded. "You don't need to die. You _can't. _I'm telling you he still needs you." Reese paused, looked towards the closed door. "It won't be me will it? No matter what I say, it won't be me who makes the difference."

"What are you talking about?" Sarah asked, almost certain she already knew.

Reese smiled without much joy as he met her gaze again. "He still needs you. So does she."

The tears came as Kyle stood to leave. Sarah gripped his hand to stop him, and then her hands were reaching up, cupping either side of his face. "Don't."

"Sarah…"

He sank back down. Sarah grabbed at his shirt, and he let her. And then he was holding her and rocking with her, and she had to struggle to talk instead of sob. "Stay. You never stay." She was talking about a dead man. Sarah knew this, but couldn't stop clinging to the man who was stroking her hair and rubbing her back. Some part of her mind that could still notice these things took in the fact that Kyle's hand wasn't shaking anymore.

He leaned back enough to kiss her forehead before letting her head fall back to his shoulder. "I'll stay if you do."

* * *

Reese was right. As much as she'd loved a version of him, as good as it felt to be in his arms, it wasn't his words that really mattered. Which was why Olivia sat in the chair by her bed now, holding her hand. Sarah tried not to compare them, her lover and Reese. She failed. Olivia's hand felt better in hers. "Say something, you've been too quiet."

"And you haven't?" Olivia countered. "You won't like what I say."

"You think I should do it." Sarah stroked the blonde's palm with her thumb. "You know this is riskier than the first time. Even if Walter adjusts the dosages, it could be too much."

Olivia's gaze sharpened noticeably. "Why does it sound like you find that prospect appealing?"

"Not appealing. But I don't want it to drag on. You, John, Savannah, you don't need to go through that."

"And we don't need to lose you either." Olivia took in a shaky breath. "I know how impossible it is for you to accept what Reese is suggesting. I know I'm being incredibly selfish in _asking_ you to accept it."

"You're not selfish, Olivia."

"No, with you I am. With you and Savannah and what we have, I can't help but be selfish. And I know you're right when you talk about how strong it is, that it's more than most people ever get to experience. And I know on some level that I should be happy with that, especially since I never thought I'd have it at all. You had two days with Reese; I've had you for six years. I know I got the better end of the deal."

"I'm not comparing you to Reese," Sarah argued, even though she'd been doing that mere minutes ago.

Whether she read the lie or not, Olivia didn't stop to acknowledge the comment. "Peter said something to me, when I wasn't sure what to do about Reese, what his motives were. He said Reese looked at you the same way I do. And he does. Because he and his Sarah had what you and I do. I see that every time I look at him. How much he loved her. But more than that, I see the pain. It's all over him, all the time. And I know that so much of it is because of his son, but it's also about her. And the other John, it sounds like he might still be okay if he hadn't lost his mother. So when you ask me to try and take care of your John…I don't know if I can do that. The two of you have something I can't touch, you have to know that. And I can't…I can't lose you and then fail you. I can't do that."

Olivia's voice was shaky, her eyes too bright. Sarah used her free hand to stroke the blonde's cheek, hating how much energy it took. "That's not going to happen, Olivia."

"Neither of us know that. I don't know anything anymore. I don't know how to take care of Savannah without you, I don't…" Olivia's shoulders rose and fell roughly, her tears hitting the pads of Sarah's fingers. "I'm scared, Sarah. I'm so scared of becoming Reese. Of losing you and having to carry that the way he does. I don't know if I can do that. I honestly don't know."

"Hey," Sarah murmured as Olivia's words were drowned out by tears. "Come here. Come here."

Sarah held the blonde as best she could as Olivia's head came to rest on her chest, above her heart. She felt Olivia's sobs as if they were ripping through her own body, though Sarah herself was past the point of crying . The last few days had gutted her. Clearly they'd done the same to Olivia, no matter how good she'd been at hiding it up to now. There'd been enough pain, enough tears. Sarah was tired of it. She wanted something better. For herself, for John and Olivia and Reese, for all of them.

* * *

It was midafternoon two days later before Walter announced that he had the doses right. As right as he could expect to get them. This triggered a long debate between Sarah and Olivia. The Bishops and Olivia's alternate were also present and showed no compunctions about making their opinions known.

"We're not doing this without a real doctor there," Peter stated. "It's too risky."

"As opposed to everything else about this plan that isn't," Sarah drawled.

"Exactly my point. The idea is to mitigate the dangers, not take chances where we don't need to."

"Felicia's got too much on her plate as is. We don't need to throw in alternate universes and metal death machines," Sarah retorted.

"Who says you have to talk about the death machines right now?" Liv asked. She was leaning a hip against the room's lone window, a Bishop on either side of her. Walter offered her a Red Vine from the bag he was currently eating his way through, but the redhead waved him off with a small smile. "Leave it at alternate universes today, maybe mention the death machines on a follow-up visit."

"I agree with Peter," Walter stated, talking past a mouthful of candy as Sarah turned her scowl on him. "It's best to have a medical doctor on hand, just in case."

Sarah bit her lip to keep from commenting on his sudden concerns about risk after years of unethical experimentation. "Isn't there a slight national security issue here?"

Olivia, standing near Sarah's bed with one hand gripping the bar at the side, tapped her fingers on the metal while responding. "There is, but there's also precedent for telling civilians about the universes in certain circumstances."

"Yeah," Liv added. "Like the other night, when we told an internationally wanted cyber-terrorist about them."

Sarah glared. "Reese is a cyber-terrorist. I'm the kind that shoots people."

"You haven't done that in years," Liv replied without the slightest hint of concern.

"Doesn't mean I wouldn't do it again in certain circumstances."

"Felicia's given us no reason not to trust her," Olivia cut in. "As for having too much on her plate, you're underestimating her, and you know it. You're the one who convinced her that she was tough enough to leave the cop."

"That's different, Olivia."

"It is. This time we're talking about your life instead of hers."

Before Sarah could respond, the subject of their argument knocked on the door and walked inside. Felicia's eyes took in everyone in the room before coming to rest on Sarah. "You wanted to see me. Is something going on that I should know about?"

Sarah glanced at her lover without speaking. While she searched for a response, Liv pushed herself off the window, stepping forward to fill the silence.

"There's something going on, but you're not supposed to know about it. You've been really good about not asking too many questions, and we'd all appreciate it if you kept that up for awhile. First off, we aren't sisters," Liv declared, nodding towards the blonde. "If you checked our fingerprints they'd be the same because genetically speaking, we're the same person. Aside from you and I, everyone in this room is from a different universe. Olivia and I have different mothers because she's that universe's version of me." A pause, a quick look at Sarah. "My mother would never have named me Bolivia. No decent person would." In a different tone, "We're telling you this because you've done nothing but help so far, and we need you to do it again. Just you, none of the other hospital staff, no other members of the team. I know we're asking a lot, but you'd be helping to save Sarah's life, which is exactly what you signed on for to begin with. And eventually I'm going to need you to step aside with me and sign some confidentiality agreements."

Felicia's mouth dropped open. With the exception of Walter and Liv, everyone present wore the same basic look of shock. The elder Bishop swallowed down the candy he'd been gnawing on, set the bag aside and clapped his hands once. "Right then. Shall we begin making preparations?"

While Walter began conversing with a stunned Felicia, the others continued to stare at Liv.

"What?" the redhead demanded, crossing the room and pulling a Red Vine from the discarded bag. "You people were worse than Congress, arguing in circles. Would've been faster to wait for a real cancer cure than waiting on you guys to make a decision."

* * *

For the second time in her life, Sarah Connor entered a morgue in an attempt to keep herself alive. For the second time, Felicia Burnett and Kyle Reese accompanied her. Olivia and the Bishops were the new players. Liv stayed behind in the corridor on guard duty. There was no way to explain what they were doing, so they had to do it in the last place anyone would look. John wanted to be there, but Sarah refused, ordering him to get in touch with James instead. She'd hugged him before he left, whispering that she loved him. He'd stopped protesting then, returned the sentiment. She heard him release a choked-off sound into her shoulder, but didn't comment on it.

Peter got the honor of placing the sheet over her body before they departed. Sarah checked that the others were out of earshot, speaking quietly before he could carry out his task. "Take care of Olivia if this doesn't work."

A muscle jumping in Peter's jaw was the only thing that gave him away. "Nope, that's your job, and you always did it better than me. You'll just have to keep it up," he said before covering her face with the sheet.

Felicia wheeled her in on a gurney. Again. This time Sarah couldn't transfer herself from there to the table. Reese and Olivia were on either side of her. She saw them have a silent conversation, Reese holding Olivia's gaze until the blonde nodded minutely. Then Reese's eyes dropped to Sarah, they were brighter than usual. "Let me help," he said softly.

Sarah breathed in shakily, offering her own nod. Dignity demanded she do as much as she could on her own, but that just left her dizzy and drained.

"No," Reese chided as she attempted to move. "Let me help."

Then she was in his arms. He wasn't shaking. He was strong and gentle, and Sarah wondered how many times he'd done this before.

"Easy," said Olivia as Reese lowered Sarah to the table, sitting her up so that her legs hung over the side.

"I know," Reese said simply.

Sarah smiled at him after she'd regained some equilibrium. He returned it for half a second, then noticed the gooseflesh covering her body. "You're cold."

"I'm good," Sarah lied. The room was freezing and unlike last time she wore nothing but a hospital gown.

Reese's brow creased with worry, but he stepped away when Felicia approached with a set of electrodes.

"How are you doing?" Sarah asked as the doctor placed the wires on her chest.

Felicia's laugh was small and disbelieving. "Isn't that my line? I'm okay to do this if that's what you mean."

"It isn't," Sarah replied.

Felicia placed the last wire near Sarah's collarbone before looking up to meet the other woman's gaze. "Honestly, it's a lot to take in. Not sure how I'm going to handle it once I get a second to process."

"You'll handle it. You have before."

Felicia shook her head, releasing another half-hysterical laugh. "Do you know how disconcerting that is, hearing you talk about things I haven't done?"

"Yes actually," Sarah replied, eyes flitting briefly to Reese. "Sorry."

Felicia waved off the apology before crossing the room to speak with Walter and Peter. Olivia took her place, smiling as best she could while rubbing her hands along Sarah's arms in an attempt to generate heat.

"Thank you." The gratitude was genuine, though Olivia's efforts had warmed her heart more than her body. "I'm okay."

"I know."

Olivia wouldn't look at her. Sarah caught the blonde's left hand, squeezing lightly until green eyes were on hers. "It'll be okay. Whatever happens, it'll be okay."

Olivia was saved the trouble of responding as the Bishops and Felicia approached them. Walter carried an injection gun with a tube trailing from one end. "It'll be faster this way," he explained, holding up the device. "There'll be more accuracy when administering the dose. I have to inject you in the back of the neck. The drugs will take effect more quickly if they go directly to your brainstem."

"It's fine, Walter. Just get it done."

Nodding, Walter circled behind her. Peter, Reese and Felicia backed off a few paces while Olivia moved closer to Sarah, holding both her hands.

"Deep breath in," Walter instructed.

Sarah did as she was told, tightening her grip on Olivia's fingers. There was a sting as the needle buried itself in her skin, but little else. "I thought it'd be worse."

Walter's voice came from somewhere behind her. "Good. The Cortexiphan is going to increase your heart rate, but hopefully this will keep it somewhat regulated.

"Hopefully?" Reese repeated.

Olivia frowned, shifting slightly to look at Walter over Sarah's shoulder. "Walter, didn't you just _give _her the Cortexiphan?"

"Oh no. The drug I gave her is meant to keep her heart from exploding. I haven't administered the Cortexiphan yet."

"Fantastic," Sarah replied while Peter cursed quietly.

"Of course your heart won't literally explode," Walter continued. "That's simply a way of describing the rupture of blood vessels around the heart which-"

"Walter!" Peter needed a moment to level his voice out. "Just get on with it."

"Very well then." Walter reloaded the injector, again placing it at the back of Sarah's neck. "I'll need to give you four individual doses. Separating them out gives us the best chance of getting this done without overwhelming your system."

"Walter? Just do it."

Walter nodded but didn't squeeze the trigger. "This will be very intense. The pain will be worse than when we gave you the drug intravenously."

"I'm sure I've had worse." She sounded resigned to her own ears. Resigned was better than terrified.

"Yes," Walter said in a way that didn't signal agreement. "But the amount of adrenaline," he looked at Felicia, "it might be best if we had some restraints."

"No," said Sarah before the word completely left his mouth.

"Sarah-"

"I said _no_, Walter."

Olivia glanced at the machines the electrodes were attached to. Walter hadn't started the Cortexiphan yet, but Sarah's heartbeat was already increasing. "I'll handle it, Walter."

It was the younger Bishop who responded, caution in his voice. "You sure you can do that?"

"I've got her." Olivia wasn't looking at Peter anymore. "Sit forward," she instructed, more quietly, addressing only Sarah. "Lean into me."

There wasn't another choice. The trip down here, staying upright for even this brief a period, she was already exhausted. She leaned into Olivia's warmth, calming slightly at the feel of the blonde's arms around her. A soft kiss fell against her hair, and Sarah felt a measure of peace. If she had to die in a morgue, it would be better this time. Reese was real, Olivia was holding her, and the others were here too. They cared. It could've been worse. "Do it, Walter," Sarah ordered for what felt like the hundredth time. Then he did, and she wondered why she'd been in such a hurry.

She hadn't been through worse. The previous Cortexiphan treatments, the other Felicia slicing her leg open, John's birth, none of it compared to this. She bit down on Olivia's jacket to keep from screaming. Didn't do much good. She slammed her eyes closed, and even that seemed to hurt. Reese's voice came from somewhere, and she wanted to hurt him, because his advice was bullshit. There was no disconnecting, not from this kind of pain. Every nerve was on fire, every muscle screaming. There was nowhere to hide from this.

Olivia tightened her grip as Sarah lurched into her, appalled by the rigidity of the muscles under her hands. Olivia knew she'd leave finger-shaped bruises on the brunette's pale skin. She registered the urgent beeping of the machines just as Felicia's voice rang out.

"Her heart rate's too fast, you need to stop this."

"We knew this would happen," Walter replied. "There's no way around it."

"She's already sick, she can't take this."

"She's not sick, Dr. Burnett, she's dying. This is the only chance we have of preventing that."

"Or speeding it up!"

Olivia would've cut in if Sarah hadn't sat back and caught her attention. The brunette's whole body was shaking, gooseflesh replaced by a thin sheen of sweat.

"Keep going," Sarah ordered, only half-able to lift her head from Olivia's shoulder. "I trust him. Let him finish."

Felicia bit her lip, eyes darting between Sarah and the heart monitor. Walter loaded a second dose into the injection gun. "Another deep breath."

Sarah held tight as she could to Olivia, struggling to comply with Walter's instructions. Breathing in anything besides rough gasps was nearly impossible, but she did her best. And then she screamed into Olivia's neck as more of the Cortexiphan flooded her system.

"She's at 200 bpm," Felicia snapped. "She cannot take that. You're going to induce a heart attack."

"And if I do," Walter shot back, "there will be reason for your being here. Until then, doctor, would you kindly shut up? Cortexiphan is my area of expertise."

Olivia barely heard either of them. Sarah's breath was way too fast against her neck, and Olivia struggled to hold her still while trying to make eye contact. "Sarah, baby, listen to me. Listen to me. Breathe, okay? Everything's going to be fine, just breathe for me. Baby, look at me. Look at me, come on."

Sarah heard Olivia's voice from far away, though she knew the blonde was right there. She tried to meet green eyes, to steady herself with Olivia's gaze, but when she opened her eyes and pulled back, her vision was distorted. Olivia's face started out blurred, then became black. "Oh God."

"What?" Olivia asked instantly. "Sarah, talk to me."

"I can't see," Sarah replied, nearly choking on the words. "I can't…"

"What the hell are you doing to her?" Reese demanded.

"Kyle," Peter warned, not positive the older man wouldn't attempt to strangle his father.

"She has reason to be here," said Walter, throwing a hand in Felicia's direction. "You don't, so if all you plan to do is take up space and question my judgment then-"

"Reese stays."

Sarah's voice as low as it was, the machine's beeping so loud and shrill, it was a wonder Reese heard her. But he did, crossing to Sarah in three long strides. He faltered slightly on the third, but he got there, moving so he was to Sarah's left. "I'm right here," he said, touching Sarah's shoulder. "I'm right here with you."

Olivia focused less on the fact that Reese was invading her personal space and more on the tone he was using. It was different from anything Olivia had heard before, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. Walter was making the third injection.

Sarah screamed again, biting the inside of her mouth until she tasted blood. She felt Reese's hands on her shoulders, Olivia's across her back. She strained against the both of them, barely able to remember why they were here, why her body was tearing itself apart.

"Olivia, you got her?"

Olivia wanted to answer Peter's question, but her hands were shaking almost beyond her control, and she couldn't tell him that. It was Reese who responded. His voice was loud enough and close enough to hurt her ears, but she didn't mind because his hands weren't shaking.

"Got her! But you can't keep this up."

Walter gave Reese a withering look as he loaded the fourth dose. "Is everyone in this room functionally deaf? This needs to be done if we are to save her life."

"He's right," Felicia argued, referring to Reese. "I'm not going to stand here and watch you kill her! Look at the readings."

"And what do you think the readings will say once the cancer finishes with her?" Walter snapped.

"Walter's right," Olivia stated, thinking of her mother and the flat line on a screen that had signaled her death. "Without the last dose, all this is pointless."

Walter nodded. The needle was poised at Sarah's neck when the brunette spoke up, halting everything with her next breath.

"Can't."

A knife stabbed through Olivia's chest. She'd never heard that word from Sarah. Not like this. "Yes, you can. One more time, okay? Just one more time. It's almost over."

"I know it is," Sarah whispered her lover's features going in and out of focus. "But I can't, Liv. It's too much this time. I'm sorry."

Olivia's lungs closed up. Her knees threatened to quit. She wanted to encourage. Make promises. Beg. She couldn't speak.

"No." It was Reese's voice. He turned Sarah's chin so she had no choice but to look at him. "Sarah, no. Not again."

"Reese, I can't."

"Bullshit! You said that when you were nineteen, and you were wrong then too." His voice softened, anger giving way to pure urgency. "You're so strong. You're _so _strong. You can do this. You _need_ to do this. For John."

Sarah's voice was far off. There were tears in her eyes. "You left me with him. You left everything to me, and it's always been too much."

Olivia heard the words, trying not to break. Sarah said something similar during that first Cortexiphan treatment. It seemed like another lifetime. It couldn't all be for nothing. Sarah's life couldn't end like this. Not like this.

"I'm here now," said Reese, verbalizing what Olivia couldn't. "I'm with you now. We're all here. You need to stay with us. Honey, you need to stay here with us."

The barest hint of a smile cut across the agony on Sarah's face. "I missed you so much."

"I know, I missed you too. Come on, soldier. On your feet. On your feet so we can finish this."

"Reese…"

The monitors were screaming. Sarah's breathing was beyond erratic. And all Olivia could think as she held on to Sarah was what she'd thought before as they lay together in the brunette's hospital bed. She wanted to take this. The cancer, the Cortexiphan, all of it. Take it so Sarah wouldn't have to. Sweat ran down Olivia's face despite the cold temperatures. She held Sarah as close as she could, thinking that the other woman couldn't go if Olivia didn't let her. And she wouldn't do that.

_Couldn't _do that.

"What the hell is going on?"

Felicia asked the question. Olivia didn't know what prompted it. Until Sarah looked in her direction.

"Liv, what are you doing?"

Olivia shook her head. She had no idea what the brunette was talking about.

"Her heart rate's slowing down."

That came from Peter. Olivia didn't bother to look at him.

"It's still at danger levels." Felicia again.

"I _know_ that, but it's slowing down."

Olivia glanced at Reese. He looked as bewildered as she felt. Then Sarah's voice stole both of their attentions.

"Finish it," Sarah ordered.

Olivia looked at Walter over Sarah's shoulder. He shook his head and shrugged. No help there.

"Finish it," Sarah repeated. "Now." She sat forward again in Olivia's arms, her breath tickling the blonde's ear. "I love you."

That whisper was followed by another scream, and then Sarah turned to dead weight. The blonde fought off a moment of sheer panic when she realized the monitors were still reading a heartbeat. It was fast, but not like before. Olivia turned her head to look at Reese, realized that Sarah had turned hers as well. She'd been facing Reese at the last second and Olivia wondered if that final declaration had been meant for two.

And then the weakness hit. Suddenly she was ready to collapse. Reese eased Sarah away from her, and she let him. He got Sarah lying flat on the table, and Olivia realized she'd never been so tired in her life. There were footsteps and people and she couldn't focus on any of it. Peter was moving towards her, but he looked wrong, out of focus.

"Olivia. What the hell was that?"

She opened her mouth to tell him she didn't know, then felt something liquid on her face. She raised her hand, noting with an odd sense of detachment that her nose was bleeding. Like Sarah's that morning in the kitchen.

"Olivia?"

Peter blurred, his voice cracking unnaturally. "Peter?"

She wanted to ask him what was happening to her, but she fell forward instead. She had a vague idea that there were arms around her. Peter was cursing. He was near, but didn't sound that way.

"Olivia! Olivia, hey, come on. Stay with me. Goddammit, one of you give me some help!"

Olivia wanted to tell Peter to calm down, stop yelling. There'd been enough yelling, enough stress. She blacked out before she could tell him anything.


End file.
